Mincing words through my teeth.
Flinching nerves like a labyrinth of barbed-wire fence.
It's just words.
The sound vibrates so fake.
The feel of our voices makes me so sick.
The desolate path we pathetically hitchhike on.
No one will be there.
No one will give you solace to your stairway elsewhere.
Fucking dust in my hands shows the promise of nothing.
You want something don't you?
The piece of time you kill for—a static moment over and over again.
Remember to keep your hands at your side because without those it's done.
Cutting the neck from your shoulders.
And who fucking cares who won?
We are all burning our eyes staring at the Sun.