There is subjectivity in the way we pronounce things,
in the past tense my mouth was on fire, dripping.
Thick plastic bags I flip through the props of an optometrist.
Today I am no more, there is no way out of this.
In the past tense my mouth was on fire,
My lips pierced in the middle looking down a reflective surface.
Today I am no more, there is no way out of this,
I my eyes on the sun that used to exist.
My lips pierced in the middle looking down a reflective surface,
They bursted like butterflies to the wind blowing.
I my eyes on the sun that used to exist.
Under the stars soft reviving my eyes were stark naked.
They bursted like butterflies to the wind blowing,
Thick plastic bags I flip through the props of an optometrist.
Under the stars soft reviving my eyes were stark naked,
Eyes bad and bubbly looking down my dreams a reflective surface.