Crossed Out

snoozers losers, wakers takers. this time around, i'm the faker. finders keepers, losers weepers. this time around, you're the reaper. seventeen years under the curse, but i'm out of this hearse. and the best thing, or should i say the worst: you're still immersed. keep your knees bent, keep your head down. plug your ears so you can't hear the sound. that prison is where the answers are found — just don't look around. after all these years, still playing on the same old fears. i'd ask them, "where's your shame?" but i know how good they are at this game. seems i can only swing and miss so i will just leave it at this: fuck religion.

Danger With The Vest Screamin Shoot The DJ

i remember it too. bathroom doorways slanting with light. darkness coloured black and blue but my thoughts left turned on all night. someone hit the fucking switch, i'm drunk off my exhaustion. someone deliver me from this itch and all that this silence is costing. hands numb at the wheel, can't grip to u-turn much less turn myself around. forgotten what it's like to feel as i watch you burn. as i watch you fall. as i watch you drown. all i'm asking for is some roadside assistance. can't do it myself, i'm seatbelted in. all i'm asking for is some outside resistance. can't do it myself, i'm straight-jacketed. hold me closer. i'll be joey dick if you'll be the gun. i'll be the ending if you'll be the hit-and-run.