Corrupt

She's a craving for these material things
but what she really needs... I can't bestow it
She's a processor toward what time brings
so I wonder what lingers inside
She's a method for me, unto her I am ying
but what she really needs... I do not know it
She's been looming behind with my heart on a string
One last part of me...
Dare not show it...
So I'll hide.

We shall celebrate until we've forgotten the meaning of the word good.
Sometimes our cravings are deeper than we would show.
There's nothing left at all when we reach this point,
There's now a new way to surrender,
Without this hard beverage and vapors we must face eachother...
And ourselves.

I wake up smelling vomit on the carpet under my own head.
I gathering my things, pondering just where the fuck you've fled.
My gaze greets the sky and I leave this place.