Vincent
I'm only screaming because I don't know if anybody can hear me here,
I'm still alive,
I'm not sure if you noticed.
Hating every moment I spent,
Don't have anything to look forward to
In a day, week, month, year.
Wasted feels my existence too.
Does swallowing yellow paint help?
What would you recommend?
Or should I cut my ear off
To escape, my friend?
The moon and I don't talk anymore,
Can't say I can blame him though.
He asked for a address, dear
My broken home has no window.
I'm sorry, never meant to interrupt.
I was just checking if I'll be missed.
Conclusion - starry night and gunshot make a lovely pair.
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