Would You Tell Picasso To Sell His Guitars?

de Ben Quad

I hope at least you have regrets
After all the things you did
You claimed you cared for us
Then left your world for dead

Slow death
Is waiting for nothing
Can’t hold up the promise
Complacently helpless
Constant taking
Far from perfect
No real changing
You're not worth it

Lie
For your health
Whatever helps
(Soundly sleeping)
(Snagged your conscience)
Absolve yourself
(Self misleading)
(False importance)

You're all the same
You're all the same
Relinquish dreams to stay alive
American Heart wrung till it’s dry
Reap until the grass is brown
Sow our place beneath the ground

We’re just waiting
For all of this to fall apart, for all of this to fall apart
We’re just waiting
For all of this to fall apart, for all of this to fall apart
We’re just waiting
For all of this to fall apart, for all of this to fall apart
We’re just waiting
For all of this to fall apart, for all of this

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