on days like these...

"every second making bad turns for the worse
she's getting further away I can feel it in the way my bones ache
The ocean sealed it's lips, now the waves won't break
The secrets it won't say has got us trying to break codes in churches
and lately I've been hating its soul purpose

when a boy writes off the world it's done with sloppy misspelled words if a girl writes off the world it's done in cursive

I'm searching for the cure
this is a sickness
can you hear me, love?

Now I look for air pockets to pick, walk with a stick, start picking locks with it
opening up heart-shaped lockets with little arguments
the tawdry trinkets start to split and contradict
those who say one thing but think the opposite
I bit the dust tongue kissing documents in a smoke stack
faith is harder to swallow than pride it, turns our throats black
I want my home back. I know that's not an available option
it's the way that I'm walking in between a cradle and coffin

that makes me pace myself. if half the battle is done right
the other half won't take my health while jacking my shadow's sunlight
to crack it open and find the space between my breaths are desolate
life is just a lie with an "f" in it and death is definite
But after I scratched the surface
I never saw the calm before the storm act so nervous

when a boy writes off the world it's done with sloppy misspelled words if a girl writes off the world it's done in cursive

I'm searching for her
Can you hear me, love?"

-Non Prophets: the Cure

Sage Francis kan det där med att formulera känslor man känner igen.

Idag har inte varit en bra dag,