i am dead

This is the fabric of expensive clothing,
The style of kings and queens keeps me warm at night,
This is golden hairs, on a golden head,
Flamboyant shit, for orphan children of night,
This was not a fine December,
Friends,
All of you,
Who see me there, from afar,
Betrayed, sporting that scar,
My most grandiose work of art,
The shit I pull,
The vices that make me dull,
All of the times I’ve lied,
I give you Dr. Jekyll,
But, baby, I’m all Mr. Hyde,
I have never quit death,
I have never stopped mourning opium,
So cynical counting among my virtues not being curious about meth,
So skeptical believing all this will find amends on therapy and valium,
It is I,
The very own lie,
The junky with the pants on fire,
The momma’s boy no one suspected-a-liar,
I won’t ask forgiveness,
For you will not know how to give it,
I will tho’, expect you’s to give not about me, anymore, any shit,
And please throw me into the void of the banished,
Into the pit of the patients, that from hope, can only expect less…
I am dead, know this, friends,
And I love you, and this is no lie,
Trust I try not to make amends,
I am deceitful, it is true,
And this was my deep-blue ‘bye-bye’


a antoine, dudán, plain...