Текст песни
Your thoughts — soft like pulp on porcelain mind,
Lie lazy like a valet, drunk on decline.
But I — I’ll tear at your silken delusion,
Drag my voice like razors across your illusions.
Bloody ribbons from the heart — that’s my art.
Sarcasm sharp, youthful and dark.
I got no silver hairs in this chest,
No grandfathered love, no gentle unrest.
I roar through this world, mouth like a gun,
Twenty-two years and I’ve just begun.
Beautiful, brutal — my words burn,
This age is mine, now feel it turn.
You lay your love on violins,
I lay it loud where the chaos begins.
You speak in lace, I scream in thunder,
Rip myself open — lips pulling asunder.
Come learn love from a savage choir,
A secretary of heaven dressed in fire.
While you flip lips like recipe pages,
I burn from soul to skin — no cages.
Wanna see rage? I’ll be meat gone wild,
My voice shifts shades like a storm-cloud child.
Wanna see grace? I’ll be silk and smoke,
Not a man — just softness in a thunderstroke.
Don’t sell me your floral Nice,
I’ve seen the dead sing in hospital sheets.
Men like leftovers, women like phrases,
Tired from years of rewound embraces.
I don’t kneel.
I don’t whisper.
I love like cities burn and oceans blister.
You want polite?
You want pure?
I'm the truth in the flesh — raw and unsure.
So play your love on trembling strings,
I’ll scream it out where madness rings.
Lips on fire, heart unstitched,
I am the cloud — beautiful, bewitched.
Not a man.
Not a saint.
Just a dream in trousers,
Dripping paint.
