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marsy mars - mars for my shadowban lyrics
[chorus]
here they come now, to cleanse the line;
they might’ve chosen your footprint to dispose of
they chose mine
is there a redeemer in the shadows?
and am i worth the redeeming?
[verse 1]
it’s the principle of the stick:
what can martial peace can also be
the wand of conflict
just as easy, just as quick
a bird on branch that might’ve made
all men and women free, sang them to
common captivity; so stimulated dissent
which by exile is policed. yes
shadowbans to deliquеsce and deceasе
shadowbans to keep the peace
your eviction from the heart so subtle that one day
the front door you once opened to a lincoln’s inn glade
your heart a love_loud strand now opens on a moor
a waste, a plain greyed; perhaps that verdancy once
shared_did_we was ever in grip of emergency
maybe my trenchant affections seemed cruelty, my infinite variety
a selfish invite that you forsake common society
how freedom welts unless wet by responsibility
i know i remain subject of someone’s affections
but i fear it is just the islington paper readers
they’re afflicted with guardianism, a pleasing
fear that someone, somewhere may be unhappy;
the cloud is their silver_lining, something i was
taught by a valued customer
was it because i was alive to such hypocrises
that i refused to make reese’s piece with them
that i was from your heart de_fammed and shadowbanned?
or did i do something worse that i can’t recall?
[post_chorus]
i keep those birds on my windowledge, in the kitchen
sometimes even in the shower, in my bed
and they hold most inquibblable dominion in my head
in whose physics they might as well be phoenix
[verse 2]
before you ask “but how can you know
your shadowban? when knowing makes it light?”
oh i don’t know, nemo knows , and
he, with his rhetorical sublime, has made me sure
was it when i dwelt on that one pop_up there?
when i hit the regal blue tang of tweeting emission
making some unpardonable admission? at any rate
i’m afflicted with tweeter’s memory loss, as are we all, to a point
the outcast at least has their knowledge
of their alienation to exfoliate the imagination
and feed their darker ego
to have been outcast without wish
without spectacle or ceremony
sentenced not to death, but to forgetting
well, then
send me to mars for my shadowban
and there, low gravity, that i might grow tall
and there, at least, is bliss – no one but me
[pre_chorus]
here they come
they come to feed the birds i kept
on the windowledge, in the kitchen
up in the shower, in my bed
in the end that built their nest
from my eyes, my fingers and my head
“here they come, the ghost of _”
“don’t be daft, girl! ghosts don’t come round here
no more!”
[verse 3]
while you may trick the mirror as to what it sees
your shadow reflects you honestly;
look upon this shadow, my forsaken substance
aren’t we ugly?
i exist now beyond the frame; no more apt to be judged
than the indents where the murderer sleeping lay
or is it an inharmonious order i’m removed from?
perhaps i’ve been tuned as perfect a fifth as the fifth from which i swig
cut from these parts where suspicion’s the only funded craft
no, here i’m returned to hope, generosity, art; all in nature’s sternest nature
and what art; for now i have practice perfect the sk!ll
of walking through a hall of mirrors without leaving a reflection
for now i return to a greater adventure; as, given such preference for
life on a net plain where pain can be so managed, surely
they are heroes, those who will embrace an everyday life
this shadow can’t w1’s jungle ride
how he wishes he could pass wind through a shop porch chime
make you think of a happier time; with home feed dreams to occupy
i’d train even as a tormenteer, if that meant
you’d turn to me again, and your anguished gaze do aught but pass through
but no; here, below the globe, a shore, a beach
with no ocean attached;
my spirit casked
in the bottom of the hourglass
where the sands of time claim
all differences in the end
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