liam the younger - pocket knife | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• liam the younger
• pocket knife

Let there be a consoler,
a remover of cares,
who places tired heads
in the palms of their hands.
Let there be someone to draw
the gun from Hunter.
It will give me strength to hold
and strength becomes an object
and this object becomes an idol
to stand before abstraction and memory.
Can it stand before anxiety
if my wits cannot take care of me?

And you are whispering
what’s possible.
Just imagining
what’s possible.

Sometimes nothing feels possible,
just vague and emptied out.
Propped up like a doll
with hands over my mouth
until night beautifully
replaces my vocal cords
with those of a gigantic gray
crumbling concrete monolith
and the filthy gutter water drips
and the make up smeared close-up pix
of a dungeon-dwelling glitterbest bitch
endlessly wheat pasted to the bricks.

And you are whispering
what’s possible.
Just imagining
what’s possible.