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In celebration of silence, a perspired treasures worked for by others. I'm ungrateful in a ways—I'm more interested in the weather.
I'm thinking of a place that doesn't exist, a crop formation in my head planted by the dead missing their lonely children while watching me purposefully overdose on Class C narcotics. I don't deserve it. I carelessly pant on the oxygen they cherish just the way our breath seeks life. They watch me fucking and forgetting. Speeding by the exits, I saw beauty in not ever looking back.
Wasted choices scream their voices. I'm alive and among the dead gathered around my head expecting me to open my arms to a deity among my astral plane. They follow me in my trails waiting for me to find a meaning I've yearned for. They know and I know that the place I'm looking for, the open fields, the warm sensations, the real.
We are all on the wrong side of the wall. I wish you could hug your children and complete your lives while i watch alone as everything.
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disenchantment like every benn jordan notion
this is the best i could muster with the lyrics, but if was meant to be interpreted verbatim, it wouldn't be so fucking fast—throw in your two cents if you have it
It almost looks like some kind of suicide note.
The first two paragraphs are flashbacks of the past. The third paragraph is how his mind wants him to find the "open fields" and "warm sensation" of a heaven.
"we are all on the wrong side of the wall" could be the wall be earth and heaven. His soul will watch over everyone "as everything"
I dont know...