Hors D'usage

Jittering hands
Taking the garbage out
He's just like the
Things that have no more use

Decaying food
Flies rub their palms
He's like the remains
Spat out the plastic bag

Hors D'usage

A triangle with
An exclamation mark
The warning is on his
Chest, foreskin, forehead

Nights of rest none,
Washed out pictures
Of brighter days
Washing down pills
Squirming lungs take
His breath away

Hors D'usage

One hue of blue
Draining hope from the sun
Eleven dimensions being
Compressed into one
Time ceases when
Panic can't be undone

My thought is me
That's why and can't stop
I exist because I think
And I can't stop
If I exist is because
I'm horrified
I pull myself from
The Nothingness
To which I aspire

Hors D'usage

He who fights monsters
Should be careful
Lest he thereby
Become a monster
And if thou gaze
Long into an abyss
The abyss will
Gaze into thee

- Dedicated to Jean-Paul Sartre and Friedrich Nietzsche



Credits
Writer(s): Matheus Caldas
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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