Ice cold hand shake shake of your newest enemy smell the fear as the bodies grow sweaty the strongest god is the deity of the petty in the pantheon of isolated passions he wins for the city sings its prayers too him with every silent prejudice and every warm smiling bias the sky turns heavy and humorless we're redefining our sentience in the golden age of loneliness
and you think your doing it you're doing it you're doing it right and then like freshly opened eyes exposed to broad day light is this feeling or convincing? or is my guilt misleading all control is an illusion and all compassion is a drug smile on drip pull the god damn plug long live the cult of thug, amen Im walking down the streets if lost emptiness I step over the shots of hope still restless
and you think you're doing it you're doing it you're doing it right you keep your mind tight to keep the mood light don't let yourself show dont let the others know it's all just pretend
my greatest friend is a black box in the golden age of loneliness
in a world where men become demons and women into witches all realness is fleeting how easy it all switches with great overtures of friendship that dont mean shit when you're not going too be somebody else's meal ticket and the irony is that it feeds the leach that keeps us out of reach you can not teach the broken glass on the beach set too lacerate the heavy soles of fate