(no subject)
Call me your names.
Make them stick.
I'll laugh until I am sick.
Glad that that's all through.
Got better friends to do.
Just can't remember where I left them.
Flattered that you think I warrant ugliness.
Gutters drain west, mud made a mess of us.
It's time to leave this place.
I'd saw through your wrist to find a better trap that fits.
I'd saw through your traps to find a better you.
A part of you that lasts.
I saw through your trap and into my own wrists.
Saw we were through, red ribbons spill to blue:
A sight to sore your eyes.
I got this dress.
I'm hiking it around this waste of laughter.
Slow dance alone with no one to the sound of four hands clapping.
Congratulations to you both, I hope you're somewhere happy.
If there's a moral to this story then I wish you'd show me.
Hair in the blood, fly in the disappointment.
Rubber, I'm glue.
I'll write the book on you.
It's sticking to my face.
You need a little less than what you take for granted.
This is the sip that's drinking back from you,
Blacking out your eyes.
You need a little more suppression of you appetites.
This is your honeymoon, in separate rooms,
It's neither sweet nor bright.
I made a word to give this state a name, this game a guess.
I call it "sluttering."
It means as little as your little test.
You are your worst revenge.
Your very means, they have no ends.
This is a story you won't tell the kids we'll never have.
If you hear this song a hundred times it still won't be enough.
(Sluttering-Jawbreaker)
I'll be quiet to keep you quiet.
Don't concern yourself with my slow dying.
Through the vent i hear you sigh.
I don't get too high these days.
Your floor is my ceiling.
Light's out, you can't come in.
If you don't remind me, I won't forget you.
If you don't ask, I won't upset you.
I am jet black.
I am stone cold.
Jet black to the center.
Funny like a funeral.
I need you to bury me.
White noise in black room dust.
These hands long for one last touch.
Hourglass all out of trust.
I don't scratch so I won't itch.
I don't reach so I won't miss.
I taste our last kiss.
This is the cure: the same as the symptom.
Simple and pure: break to keep fixing.
Patiently nurse, patient and nurse.
This is the part I wouldn't show you.
This is the part where you say, "I don't even know you".
This is your cue.
Be glad it's through.
(Jet Black-JB)
Make them stick.
I'll laugh until I am sick.
Glad that that's all through.
Got better friends to do.
Just can't remember where I left them.
Flattered that you think I warrant ugliness.
Gutters drain west, mud made a mess of us.
It's time to leave this place.
I'd saw through your wrist to find a better trap that fits.
I'd saw through your traps to find a better you.
A part of you that lasts.
I saw through your trap and into my own wrists.
Saw we were through, red ribbons spill to blue:
A sight to sore your eyes.
I got this dress.
I'm hiking it around this waste of laughter.
Slow dance alone with no one to the sound of four hands clapping.
Congratulations to you both, I hope you're somewhere happy.
If there's a moral to this story then I wish you'd show me.
Hair in the blood, fly in the disappointment.
Rubber, I'm glue.
I'll write the book on you.
It's sticking to my face.
You need a little less than what you take for granted.
This is the sip that's drinking back from you,
Blacking out your eyes.
You need a little more suppression of you appetites.
This is your honeymoon, in separate rooms,
It's neither sweet nor bright.
I made a word to give this state a name, this game a guess.
I call it "sluttering."
It means as little as your little test.
You are your worst revenge.
Your very means, they have no ends.
This is a story you won't tell the kids we'll never have.
If you hear this song a hundred times it still won't be enough.
(Sluttering-Jawbreaker)
I'll be quiet to keep you quiet.
Don't concern yourself with my slow dying.
Through the vent i hear you sigh.
I don't get too high these days.
Your floor is my ceiling.
Light's out, you can't come in.
If you don't remind me, I won't forget you.
If you don't ask, I won't upset you.
I am jet black.
I am stone cold.
Jet black to the center.
Funny like a funeral.
I need you to bury me.
White noise in black room dust.
These hands long for one last touch.
Hourglass all out of trust.
I don't scratch so I won't itch.
I don't reach so I won't miss.
I taste our last kiss.
This is the cure: the same as the symptom.
Simple and pure: break to keep fixing.
Patiently nurse, patient and nurse.
This is the part I wouldn't show you.
This is the part where you say, "I don't even know you".
This is your cue.
Be glad it's through.
(Jet Black-JB)