to kill this
08/18/07, 10:22 PM
If only you could see me like the portraits on your walls
instead of an empty canvas, that floats,
a ghost through silent halls.
What colors would come to mind,
that pause or alter time? trace and copy,
dust and lift, to stick
within a frame, or would I just be a name?
the word for something you treasure
the most here on this earth,
the beautiful click of the tongue,
the dribble out the lips and straight down the chin
never even measures its true worth.
Feet first you dive, so blind.
Oh how far we go to feel alive.
I swear I beat my fists against my ribs
in hopes to shatter what sleeps inside of it.
Now tell me, would you fucking paint this?
sing it? this fit, this bit...don't deny it.
You know you love a scene;
so suck it up, pick up your brush,
and make me, paint me, create me
in shades of envious green
instead of an empty canvas, that floats,
a ghost through silent halls.
What colors would come to mind,
that pause or alter time? trace and copy,
dust and lift, to stick
within a frame, or would I just be a name?
the word for something you treasure
the most here on this earth,
the beautiful click of the tongue,
the dribble out the lips and straight down the chin
never even measures its true worth.
Feet first you dive, so blind.
Oh how far we go to feel alive.
I swear I beat my fists against my ribs
in hopes to shatter what sleeps inside of it.
Now tell me, would you fucking paint this?
sing it? this fit, this bit...don't deny it.
You know you love a scene;
so suck it up, pick up your brush,
and make me, paint me, create me
in shades of envious green