Creating Something Out Of Nothing Only To Destroy It

Norma Jean
Album : Birds And Microscopes And Bottles Of Elixirs And Raw Steak And A Bunch Of Songs

Your eyes, your concrete eyes
Cross crisscross my path
Walking in circular patterns
Shoe shine your ammo, polish your metal
I need not your wicked weapons
My war is not with someone like you
A string of blood that is not my own strings between
Increase time and it will fall into place
A sword and my heart
So much so that it makes it's way through my throat giving me thought to speak
This becomes my pistol
This becomes my dagger of my time
Don't sell out
It all comes to
This becomes your future
Unseen war
Your weapons are useless
Drop the gun
Golden gun
Like bringing a knive to a gun fight