They are dead flies in my tea
what will I be if I taste the deep?
Fried eggs and being, don’t laugh at what you see
People will die of resting, praying or still
I will cry till my voice becomes steam
Maybe death is a passage to life we can’t see
Or maybe it’s a way to get even with God, ask him about how the world is such a mess, maybe a waste of time
Why Can’t we live each day expecting death? Why do we cry when people die?
Why do we even die?
Why do we go still in the middle of a meal, bath, road or laugh?
Why can’t death be honourable, like why should people choke to death?
Must be one hell of a bitch if you ask me
People should live in caves and trees and bushes and whatever…
I remember you have like I remember victor
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