Contemporary Suicide
Contemporary suicide
Holding the hands that help us lie
I am in ruins past my grave
Haunting the world that makes me stay
The moon lights up my hunting ground
I sit here and thirst, then look around
Such unexistence through my eyes
Such lack of life, such empty prize
My fornicated reeds of loss
I’d open my heart, but I’ve been caught
Thorns deep inside this little hole
I’d open my mouth, but I’d bleed your soul
Can’t calculate the day I’ll leave
I know I have lungs, not why I breathe
We are domestically inclined
We can not escape, lest we not survive
Contemporary suicide
Holding the hands that help us die
We are the ruins past our graves
Don’t look around unless you want to stay
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