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feign thing - i went home and nobody there knew you كلمات أغنية

there’s a certain agony to waiting
on pain or rust. cold or death
as if growing pains were so true
i’d believe the feeling to be a_like

i suffer from a particular waiting
a vision, like a vein in my hands
oh st_rdied, enigmatic thing!
a voice spoken by all things
a piece of the dark in every corner
tucked in every envelope
dusted under your finger nails

it screams, and it whispers
oh true, insufferable thing!
a constant reverberation
an honest noise
foretold, or premised, felt, known
this pain exists because i already have seen it

our future is a blind thing
oh pernicious, didactic thing!
a bleak detonation
harboring a single sovereign tone
and i am its apostle
the hierophant’s reflection
tell me
when the earth longs for winter
what will its insects do
when there is no longer a cold torpor
to let down their wings
to lull and lullaby them into bliss
what will they make of this apocalypse?

what of my bald faced h_rnet
a true wasp doomed by its mongering name
that first winter
when their queens borough and abandon
when there is no safety in old oblivion
what will they become?

like poison
i bite at my limbs i destroy them
devour and adorn it
and yet i live like poison

like poison
i bite at my limbs i destroy them
devour and adore it
and yet i live like poison

oh praise this consuming thing
a delusion nested in a delusion
prophecy written into itself
ouroboros or autobiography
there is no way to recreate the self in
no defense from this parasitism
to know is to devour
to act is to create is to become
and such leeches are not equal
might these wasps become me in my sleep
id hope their boogeyman becomes them too

oh annihilation, solemn thing

i will become something again

bending light apparatus
show me somethin that matters
hereby or there gone
it all gets raptured

fermented fruit and wheat pastures
an ovipositor or apples
becoming what your after
wanting, craving
raptures

i don’t see the point in this sh_t
the conceit was banking
now its whether or not farmers exist

the id
the pain of knowing it becomes what it is
another fable for the abyss
the conceit was the parasite/paradise
but i can’t remember witch parasite it is

- feign thing

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