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This is what it feels like.
This is what it feels like.
No Sympathy for weakness
No Sympathy for weakness
No Sympathy.
It is what we shall forever be
Summed up in one half-assed line:
No Sympathy.
Say what you will,
Let it all out-
Let the wolves feast on your entrails.
No Sympathy.
We have nothing to recommend,
Your cuts are too deep.
Why are you cut?
No suture is gonna close that, you asshole...
Smear the blood on your face
A war paint, clown paint goth saint taint-
No Sympathy damnit.
This paper sickness drivel nonsense?
I'll touch you and watch you literally fall to pieces
Nothing but an ink stain on carpet.
It's a magic trick (not real magic) but a trick-
A good ol'
Slight-of-hand-where-the-fuck-is-the-substance-and-then-it's-gone-ta-da!
Nothing to be done.
The wolves are hungry too,
Their feast is your triumph-
Let them be sick.
Let them eat nonsense.
Let them see all we can be.
We'll have a party,
Then forget why we're there-
What was that name again?
Who the fuck was that person?
Why are we standing here naked?
Who turned up the fucking air conditioning?
What purpose did memory serve anyway?
Who used up all the fucking lube?
Why are we fusing together?
It'll be a giant frozen ball of human flesh,
Rolling down the hall, knocking over furniture
A blind, bewildered idiot,
Spitting out shards of ice
Decapitating the voyeurs
And everyone gets blamed
And no one knows why
And the house gets destroyed
And the roof caves in-
A bond so strong, no one survives.
No fucking sympathy.