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lyrics

Little deaths kept stripped of context
Slept next to the breasts of the soon-left
Rightfully rimose, reminders of time’s ghosts
Writing in slime the shifts of paradigm
Mind meanders, I’m tired of tangents
I desire to find my own grand rigadoon
Y’know, that state that feels like a womb
Y’know, a face that makes me swoon
Phatic, fatuous false smiles flourish
While I sit stewing in shit, malnourished
To not slit the wrists takes all of my courage
Knowing I’ll awake again, that I’ll live another day
I need sex, I need love
To not feel second best out of two
To not feel unneeded
I just want to feel needed

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from Portal​/​Morsel, released March 24, 2014

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Gerry Mark Norton England, UK

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