IRC-Galleria

Small, simple, safe price.
Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets.
This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals.
And I am not afraid to die;
I'm not afraid to bleed and fuck and fight,
I want the pain of payment.
What's left, but a section of pygmy sized cuts.
Much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks.
Would you be my little cut?
Would you be my thousand fucks?
And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid.
To fill and spill over and under my thoughts.
My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter.
I'm cutting trying to picture your black, broken heart.
Love is not like anything,
Especially a fucking knife!

Look at me.
You can tell,
By the way I move and do my hair,
Do you think that it's me?
Or it's not me?
I don't even care.
I'm alive, and i swear
I'm the cleanest I have ever been.

I feel big, I feel tall, I feel dry.
Dry.
Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.
Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.

Do I drink?
Do I date?
I've got perfect placements.
In my head
Satisfied, in your eyes.
I'm the biggest fan I've got right now.
I made sure I looked how I wanted to look.
The people around me,
The people surround me.