Marley Butler & Aokid
WhatsApp Message by Mim Henna
Vocals | Engineered, and Mixed by Marley Starskey Butler in The Porage Factory
Instrumental Mixed by Aokid
We spin around mistakes then in a fake we resurface
and hesitate when were nervous,
and the curse is
underneath the verses.
the things that don’t get said
when renewed life emerges.
Things like the demons
that live inside of you
won’t lose sight of purpose
even though you've found your view.
And you are on your own,
even in a crowd full people,
all alone thinking that one day you would be equal.
Waiting for your sequel
but it never comes
you succumb to the worlds stage
even though it numbs.
And at this age
you can’t express it through rage,
you would rather sit in your cage
and make it beautiful
then forget about what he says or she says
because who are they to judge?
their words are only words and you are ineffable as such.
You rush into the corner of your mind
self-expressing all time
effervescing in decline
life lessons redefined.
But before you let that sink in
remember I was blinking
at night instead of sleeping
I was sinking and augmented,
state of mind rented,
to find temporary signs that’s amor scented.
Was I more accepted then?
before a pen became the shape of a friend.
In vain I would like to defend
the lane inside the pretend.
The mind speaks for itself,
a kind of leak for the wealth
of blind leeches in stealth
as signs reach for your health.
When who you are is who you will never be.
A declining star is who you are meant to be.
Nevermind I’m far from aligning mentally,
when you are still here sitting next to me.
Making it clear that dysfunctional people attract.
It’s feeble in fact the game we both try to enact.
A spurious fact that pulling wool over our eyes,
We lie to ourselves
when really we love in disguise.
Then realise that we are clearly in denial,
our spirits in a pile on the floor
and we are sore from the bile
we create when together in a state
of depression the expression is the opposite,
an adolescent composite.
I heard we're absurd
from the voices in my head
but instead we choose to ignore the core of that notion
so emotion overtakes,
the choices I should make,
forcing the mistake with my foot above the break.
We accelerate further.
The voice becomes a murmur then silence.
A magnetic violence,
two poles together in loopholes
endeavouring new woes
and severing mute souls
it’s never been too cold for us.
I'm writing these letters to discuss
issues that have now formed dust,
I was never in a rush
I was revelling in everything but love.
Voice whispering again.