Due to society's low tolerance for the truth, I can only express my feelings through art. |
I cut up the pieces, it was me I’m responsible, but What should my punishment be? The pattern hinted at it madly Predetermined, it’d come out badly But of course, I’m stubborn I kept on cutting He shut me down, mid-breath I said “breathe, you stupid stranger, breathe” Don’t look out for me, you look out for you She said “you’ll be seeing more of me” I stood, mouth agape, with my rake My paperdolls were there, ask them I wrote it down, phonetically I tried my hand at writing, then My scissors broke, everything just fell; it dropped And I laughed a lot I have a picture of your city, it’s on my wall I framed it, black and white I must have missed your call I’m sorry; I’ve been so busy lately Ever since the stick figures The how we spoke non sequiturs You ripped them apart at the hands, you’re stubborn You kept on going He shut me down, mid-breath I said, “read, you stupid stranger, read” Don’t be courteous towards me, worry about yourself She said “he just wants to see, again” I stood, mouth agape, with my rake My paperdolls were there, ask them I wrote it down, phonetically I tried my hand at writing, then My scissors broke, everything just fell; it dropped And I laughed a lot I’d run but my shoes are worn |