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letra de a graveyard - introvert (fl)

we’re sick enough to spill someone else’s blood
paint a picture of ourselves with it, and call it love
i guess that’s what the ego does
when it forgets the bodies we’ve become
will eventually turn back to dust
we’ve held onto the worst parts of our nature
tried to survive on rotten fruits of our labor—
maggot filled and mangled flesh, should’ve seen it as a sign
but lately we’ve been complaining that the apple hasn’t been tasting right
taste buds blossom and reach up for the taste of death
spit spilling out our lips, smoke collecting in our chests
hands erecting effigies where all of the ash collects
man the flames we set ablaze, and call ourselves the architects
we didn’t plant this garden, no. it grew on its own
now its starting to resemble all the bones we left below:
palms open, hands stretched. strangely i can never tell
if they’re reaching up to comfort us or asking us for help

oh eden, please believe
that the snake still slithers in our teeth
with the lies that we believe to satiate our endless need to be
better than the barren land we leave beneath our battered feet
we watched skylines start to erupt
saw cityscapes in the empty sp-ce that surrounded us
burying the truth we knew we couldn’t sell:
paradise was never lost. we stole it from ourselves

- introvert fl

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