4feit - Intellectual

Gazin' at the present and the past

Wonder if forever could ever last

It's gettin' dark

Floatin' home and the street lights are flickerin'

Head full of bars and a frame slowly witherin'

Walk light

Feet tickle in the bishamon

The sinner sittin' covered in his sinuses and shiverin'

Hence the heat of discussions

To warm his hands again

Frost bites the finger

Still it's easier to grab the pen

Than it is to just get up off his lard ass

To stand up

And stand off

With a hard stance

Half hearted efforts

Creedance, the clever ruse

If you chose not to listen you'd never know that you never knew

And I wrote this for you

I wrote this for you

Don't you know that I wrote this for you?

(Sighs)

Guess not

Still the ink dries quicker than he jots it down

Boulders on his shoulders

Still he's colder when they're not around

Forgotten grounds of where those memories are left

Better blame the botanist for the way he makes them hostages

In this rotten esophagus

Clockin' the obvious

But what time is it?

Now he got a mic to grip

He's silenced in the sirens and the like that try to stifle him

Fruits of his labour ripening

The eyes widen at the sight of the still

Back on track like rehabilitation

Still a heathen in the making

Dreams of demons in the basement again

Grotesque figures, bodies all contorted

Swam inside my thoughts till I'm forced to wanna forfeit

Forced to wanna forfeit