seizing my brain like it's bursting blood vessels in it
so you have a flair for writing, so you want to write a book, so you want to be famous, so everybody wants to know your name.
it always sucks you in, keep trying to one-up the previous guy. even better if you're a woman, one more thing to fight in the name of feminism. one more notch for the ever going gender wars, it never ends, girls just want to be on top.
and its an affair with the devil, we all want to sell our souls to gain this life, and we want to snatch it back from the jaws of death. we have dealings with the afterlife, where money isn't the currency of the day. oh, we know wot we want, and you're not getting any.
and i supposed we're reminded of representative things. issues we've never let go off, swept under the rug. they plague us in feverish dreams and haunt us every waking hour. in the arctic cold we try to forget, but the piercing frost-bitten lips remind us of the cold harsh kisses we used to have. how we would flirt with fame and fortune, how we would tease with power and money.
shoot me twice and make shure i die from it.
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