Social Debauchery

Friday/25/Sept/2015

9:33 PM

We're still on the tip of our paradise,

and I can always hear your voice descending from my lips, 

Sinful thoughts, like apocalypse, arise,

I can already hear my name disintegrating from your grips.

I can barely notice if you're wasting me out, or wearing me well. 

The only thing that I feel is that I'm sentenced deep in your personal hell. 

I've got an ammo, ready to shoot.

I'm a martyr and I'll never be with you.

I've got a rope around my neck, nice and smooth.

You're a compass, you know it's true.

We've only been here for a day,

and I can already feel your heart around my neck, 

We're only here to turn grey,

and I can always taste your hate all around my back.

You're wearing me well, and I'm wasting you out.

Drowning deep in hell and getting lost in your pout.

I've got an bullet, ready to boot.

I'd better be isolated than be with you. 

Social debauchery and self-mockery.

Eat your heart out in a proper crockery.