in the making of black and white

like to say your name in my head
and imagine you lying on my bed
i wish these sheets weren’t so cold
cause i lie somewhere above them
 
tomorrow’s white and you are black
and in this whirlpool you float upstream
i’m pale and plain and colourful
but i can add no colours in my dream
 
listen to me, i have no picture
and i have no memory
but a bottle full of sweet-sour nectar
and a syringe that stabs it all into me
 
write your name in the air and stare
all i have is a name and saved conversations
who knows? the last time may have been the last time ever
and i’ll disappear into nothing
 
you are the black so get over it
and decieve me already
it’s easier to leave and shove away
than when i feel the truth in what you say
 
be the conniving demon i’m wary of…be the cruel calculating theif
be the white and take yourself back,
out of me…
or if you give me 8 seconds i’ll take it all back and beg for the sickness to stay with me…
optimism sucks dick
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