Fuck genius. What's an artist?
Dead words devoid of meaning. Let's drop them.
I know where they can go, but your neck is blocking the hole.
Let's start from zero.
Now, listen close.
This is a rip: "The scream that ignites the world?"
We're slaves to radios. We're not worth shit to talk to.
This is the pen that won't cauterize the wound.
Whose plan to follow?
It feels like your own. It's an insult. You've fallen for it.
It feels like your own. It's your anthem, as jaded as its source.
The anemic. The pale, the sullen.
An album