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letra de ida - frameworks

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i wouldn’t feel a thing. detached in my own perpetual state where everything ceaselessly stays in its place. in the yellow walls i secure my own stay. the defining line of love and hate would bleed so fine becoming the same. all the wiles would catch my own feet, costing a limb just to set myself free, and i wouldn’t feel a thing. in my h-ll i’d play all my banes. conversations with who i could have been. slitting the wrists of the hands of the clock. st-tching the wrists of the hands of the clock. year after year after year. i’d get what i deserve. complacent and fully aware, ceaselessly year after year after year. i’d get what i deserve

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