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Somnambulist Lyrics
blood of the fallen,
a somnambulist wrectched and prophetic slaves to the system
who carves out her own eyes with razorblades leaving a blister it
takes form evaporative transluscent prisms reflecting they shatter infesting all i see
in a tongue i lace with insanity a phantomous illumination
i will never be painted on the walls with the blood of a paranormal cataclysm i will never see feed upon the saints and eradicate the elemental
sacrificial bones that break in a dream of isolated ambience i find myself in cold sweats wide awake
cuz I’ve got punctures in my lungs gonna
tear me out fucking rip me out suffocate disintegrate love will never penetrate
these walls i build with my symptoms conniptions inflictions a slave to my symptoms
Denial-
I’m just fine don’t touch me
clairvoyance-
these beings confront me through
violence
i am deconstructing my soul by removing my eyes from my
skull just to see or feel something
hallucinogenic pathetically craving what kills me and destroys
the voice that’s relentlessly echoing carving a vision of what once was,
what has been could be anything but these purple angelic pupils that haunt my dreams
wide awake and falling asleep where i stand I’m the saint who prays with slit wrist at midnite for the moonlight for the sunset for the
experience of the sickening decay if i had a reason just to breathe another breathe i wouldn’t need
this phantomous illumination deep inside
painful accusations resonating thru these conversations spoken in the tongue of psychotropic demonized pitiful acidic catastrophic condescending
paranoid delusionary penetrating finalized so murderous the conversation that i heard between the voices venomous and complicated somewhat fantasized
i could be the one to hold and love and uplift u or i could be the one to devastate disintegrate and move to impale u i feed on the wounds that my
manic episodes do heal or dig further too reveal the degenerative failures inside all of u I’m fucking digging in my soul I’m fucking carving out
a hole I’m the saint who prays with slit wrists at midnite cuz I’ve got punctures in my lungs
a somnambulist wrectched and prophetic slaves to the system
who carves out her own eyes with razorblades leaving a blister it
takes form evaporative transluscent prisms reflecting they shatter infesting all i see
i will never be painted on the walls with the blood of a paranormal cataclysm i will never see feed upon the saints and eradicate the elemental
sacrificial bones that break in a dream of isolated ambience i find myself in cold sweats wide awake
cuz I’ve got punctures in my lungs gonna
tear me out fucking rip me out suffocate disintegrate love will never penetrate
these walls i build with my symptoms conniptions inflictions a slave to my symptoms
Denial-
I’m just fine don’t touch me
clairvoyance-
these beings confront me through
violence
i am deconstructing my soul by removing my eyes from my
skull just to see or feel something
hallucinogenic pathetically craving what kills me and destroys
the voice that’s relentlessly echoing carving a vision of what once was,
what has been could be anything but these purple angelic pupils that haunt my dreams
experience of the sickening decay if i had a reason just to breathe another breathe i wouldn’t need
this phantomous illumination deep inside
painful accusations resonating thru these conversations spoken in the tongue of psychotropic demonized pitiful acidic catastrophic condescending
paranoid delusionary penetrating finalized so murderous the conversation that i heard between the voices venomous and complicated somewhat fantasized
i could be the one to hold and love and uplift u or i could be the one to devastate disintegrate and move to impale u i feed on the wounds that my
manic episodes do heal or dig further too reveal the degenerative failures inside all of u I’m fucking digging in my soul I’m fucking carving out
a hole I’m the saint who prays with slit wrists at midnite cuz I’ve got punctures in my lungs
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