Throw me like a hand grenade.
For I am destruction mid-air.
Synthesized narcissism,
I am flat-lined. Stapling the ceiling to my chair.
Grieving over a time slip,
Stained glass eyes and sweet wet lips.
On the check-list, you were restless.
Posing theatrical gimmicks and perpetually
proving your paisley points and tactics.
But the fact is,
love does not live here.
It does not miss her now,
It does not bind my wrists and feet.
Love is but a blind man, what don’t you see?
Throw me like a hand grenade
and take this place away.
I’ll aim in regards to my hearts
deepest and most damning dismay.
Demonstrate for hours your fraudulent relevance,
but never once to interrogate my reputed intelligence.
You know I’ll just embellish it.
I know you’ll just criticize my relishing in the thick of it,
because you’re sick of it.
That I’m smarter than you.
That my mind is mine?
It’s the one thing you can’t dilute.
Throws you through my much intended loop.
Throw me like a hand grenade
so I can simply release.
So I can close my eyes and get some f*****g relief.
Take the time I get to just believe in this belief.
The only reminder that I’m bleeding as red as you underneath.
Oh, throw me like a hand grenade and
run as fast as you can.
For my only intended purpose
is to kill my fellow man.
Run, run.
As fast as you can,
and when the sun goes down tonight,
you’ll know exactly where I stand.