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letra de sh..r.rr.g.nc. - bogii

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“please forgive me, for i know not what i do.”

the gears are spinning
the eight-fold gate is finished
the chest is once again close and forlorn
the grass pillow rests in the three corners

baseless
the accusation of the time of the
faceless
the acclimation to the climb, count the
paces
ambiguation to the crime, it
e-races
amputation of the mind, incanted para
-digm
antic-p-tion for the line that it’s
dangerous
ambivalence is what kept thе grime
painless
rest assurеd, the source is still
gangrenous
untouched, the first evidence is the
fragrance
similarly syndicate synonyms sending them into hysterics
over complication, can’t bear it
micro-dosing venom into the lyrics
so while i lie in the grass, i get ’em within the
single sitting, i’m setting
off onto the overpass, breaking the barrier’s fitting
wanted to do something new, a very ornate decision
give us morning, counting the victims of attrition, check the vision
dissipate in the waves, fade to grey for the intermission

and it’s
back to basics. back to the bas-m-nt
have to face it: zach is a waste, and
track the waistband, growing by the minute
grab the spray can, mark where he finished
and it’s
the end of the apology
the friend of the anomaly
now send for the lobotomy
bury me within astronomy

olli olli
oxenfree
on my knees
talk to me
when i bleed
can’t you see
harmony
underneath
heavenly
armory?
martyr me
honestly
father, please
pardon me
common sheep
lodge in the
colonies
solemnly
fallen. cease
calling peace
lulling fees
all on thee
honoring
following
carl-ry
coloring
sorrow beasts
debauchery
they’re lost in their shopping spree

the beat comes back
intertwined with the culture
a heat plumbs tracks
and surmises what’s supposed to’
of bleats from that
we relieve what we sutured
and bleep the fact
(that) we’re fundamentally voyeurs
call on the courier, never let them bore ya
give into euphoria, graced by gloria
of course they want more of ya’, who wouldn’t?
soul pouring in the foreign form, easy to complete the booking
but there’ll be one day when the paint begins to chip
where loose ends step in stocked with the green tip
and that magazine will begin to feel like a dream
and the sound fades will a final “zip”
you
wanted your piece of heaven
but the community’s gated
your immunity’s faded
the opportunity’s dated
unable to p-rs- the fable
or that the option is off the table
now unavailable
understandable: have a nice day
i guess my imbalance had the final say
possessed talents that just wasted away
i confess that i was waiting to feel okay
hey
i was lucky enough to have a dream
to believe in a hope that’ll remain unseen
to not have had to chase cream, to have turn into a fiend
or some other third thing, that i could be just me

i was
born at the beginning and the end of the millennium
so ladies and gentlemen and all of my non-binary friends
i’m afraid that this production is approaching it’s end
but i am happy to say, what a rush it has been
i failed; i became an adult
got diagnosed, took leave from a cult
love you mom and brother, it was not your fault
and for my final words: “i love you all!”

“for us humans to crave control over life and death is sheer arrogance, don’t you think?”

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