Enduser - Familiar Taste Of Blood | Текст песни

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• Enduser
• Familiar Taste Of Blood

while you



lose your face in altered states

mistaking situations like supermarkets in foreign places for outer space



i



dance to the rhythm of your potential and rarefied brilliance

caress your discarded harp



ponder how i have nothing to offer

while giving you everything



across the vast expanse of the atlantic

it comes down to semantics



this frantic war of the words



you make me feel like i’m stealing something

when what i want is to hand over every last bit of me



and all i’ve got is nothing

but these penniless definitions

falling all over themselves

to get their 2 cents in



talk is cheap

nevertheless i go for broke



constructing worthless verses

which you belittle like its inevitable destiny



its not easy to battle with

an arsenal full of low self esteem



public defender

for inner criminal guilty as sin



you always win

listen



all i do is rise to fall



like boomerangs, orbiting planets, and dogs in heat

you always return to your point of entry

as predictable as 1before2before3



your oppressive weighs heavy

portentous like smallpox soaked blankets

dangerous like its own omen



i crawl out from under your thumb

and end up backed against the wall

breathless and accused

i shake off the rain of your negativity

chilled to the bone

and i get wound up so tight

this massive mortal coil

makes double helixes look relaxed and loungey



and you,

you make a better idea than human being

better in theory than practice



you

with your manic depressive passive aggressive propensity

to simultaneously create and avoid tension



you twist my intention like taffy

baffling me pink soft and harmless as baby hand



you decide what i mean before i’ve even spoken



(son of mercilessly fucked with)



(we all got some walls up)

(its understandable)



but i refuse to play stand-in for the role of your former assailant



this pulling

familiar taste of blood like sucking pennies

second nature in the mouth of a prizefighter



rearranging on the cellular level like metastasized panic



dancing with your deluge of demons like it takes 200 to tango



try to put me in my place

give me something to really struggle against



its this genetic predilection towards rejection

i can not reason out this itch in my palms

or rhyme your name out of my dream mantras

it is like vomit on my tongue now



it is a precarious position to be in

i am a daredevil who dives headlong eyes closed, wrists open



playing chicken with dignity



always braced for collision