Goodnight my Love, my lovely Love. Goddamn shame to be a traitor.
Iâve got God in a shoebox under my bed waiting for my finger.
We both look better in the dark so Iâll do it while were sleeping,
that way I will not reflect my fatherâs defining feature.
The absence of consciousness, welcomes the presence of formulated manipulation.
I wonât feel a thing if you donât.
Feel what I feel and youâll find faith to believe in God.
God I need you, because I am familiar with the Devil.
Iâve been waiting for the sun to come and dry up all this rain,
but Iâm caught out in the storm.
Itâs three a.m. and Iâve got you good. Iâve got you right where I want you.
It must be easy to hold your tongue now with help from a forty-five.
âNext Exit: One Mileâ it read, but youâre moving a mile a minute.
That gives you around sixty seconds before you reach your destination.
Where will you go?
I wonât feel a thing if you donât.
Your safety came with distance but you foolishly fell into consistency.
Place your hand where it does not belong and Iâll be a reminder of your size.
Your steady way mirrors the end, the vibrance that fill the pillow behind the head.
The one you chose to live within, the one that said, that one that says.
Black quite quickly.
White next swiftly.
Oh so sorry.
Buenas Noches.