from by Magen

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Colors make noises, or was it you?
I want to give you something to scream about!
Peacefully, the colors disappear.
I'm thinking in greyscale again.
Raping after neglecting, treating infants with electric shocks.
I suggest you'll be already on your toes, waiting for my... my... oh my!
It's a deadly play, a deathly liquor swimming about in a pop cherry juice box,
it's your juice, honey. In my mind I drain you, iron hand made.
Nowhere, no when, even for the godless
some hymns will never be mute.
It's not hate, it's what comes instead of love.
Isn't that cheering, sugar?
While faceless figures splice your broken world.
When I cut you like paper through naked skin, all the faces in
the bus to no specific place stare, like they have never seen a madman. What!?
Some mirrors lie, not all. It really depends on the phony ass not looking well enough,
for most of your colors are still intact, so why do you bury?
Bury all of my dirty thoughts in a sandbox and pray they won't come to life.
Cause in the ending of each thought, something wicked bites my lips,
deeper then the thought did.
It's an urge that makes you go wild, like a beast without a rose.
It's rage, flowing like viper venom in a millisecond highway to your thoughts.
It’s every dirty thought that makes you piss on everything you ever cared for.
Trust me, it's there. Why do we need it? Well, we don't but...
I'm thinking in grayscale again.


from Thoughts In Greyscale, released May 14, 2015



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