Its not the substance, but the stigma
that keeps you coming back.
Sometimes I wish there was
bait on this hook for me.
Always left alone in the lake,
I'll swim forever, and never
find the right place for me.
Sometimes I don't know who my friends are,
I don't know where to belong.
I'd throw myself off the edge,
if it meant that the marching band would arrive
with their instruments, to serenade those who've tried
with a swan song as I leave.
I'd applaud the gospel choir
if their words spoke to me,
I don't trust in god because he doesn't
trust in me.
I'll come back as a single grain of sand
as insignificant as I feel,
and maybe then it would seem more appropriate
for the world to walk all over me.
I've seen desserts bloom.
I've seen the skin peel from your crooked bones.
The Brooklyn miscreants dish out six helpings of raw, sinister punk that combine raw energy with metalcore power moves. Bandcamp New & Notable Dec 14, 2022