You ruined the sanctity of my pride display
Purity is forlorn, abysmal toward lore
Ignore the old forms or simply brush it under the rug
Bullied and sullied, the anger in element or earth itself
A heart forever cast on the ground
The forger of all things rote
The forager through all she wrote
Searching low and lower for offbeat frequencies
And unbeaten paths, shouts to dead polymaths
Unkempt parables, disheveled and terrible
Make it make sense to me
Make it make sense to me
Hand-pulled, ransomed, back-track, too soon
Hand-made, Manson, Help me, wind-strewn
The universe is mostly distance
This encryption is mostly disinterest
The universe is mostly distance
The signal was increasingly dissonant
Clever, never have I ever made a cavalcade of sores so unappealing, so unyielding an unwieldy interruption for unseen interlocutors, the penny pit its’ cents against our sense and sensibilities
Yet my abilities rot, my ideas pulled dripping from a moat
See all these cracks, it’s not a facade
I’m just choking, I’m just choking
I’m still choking, I’m just choking
On words unspoken
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Went White Lyrics – Grow A Body, Die