oh i would love to be
under the sea
with the sounds of rushing water
in my ears
the dark murky depths
obliterating my line of sight
as its hard to swallow the heavy weighted water
when you try to catch your breath
the water circles in
and rips apart your insides
making your body thrash about
rivel
and without a sound
your body is found
washed up on peetree island
now wouldn't you rather a lovely bunch of cyanide pills.
oh, there aint much use in trying
when you really rather be dying
why not take the easy route.
when I write I hear beats in my head, I write to the rhythm of my internal drum. sweet like sugar, and raw to the bone. ;RAWSUGAR;
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