Light me up
And put me in your mouth
Like you do your cigarettes
Let me be your apology
In between your thighs
We’ll be the poison
That insists
On no real reason why
existentialism
And so my enemy, in the end, is the same
I wouldn’t wish the human condition upon my worst enemy, but alas I have it and so do they.
So my enemy, in the end, is the same.
And that is what hurts the most.
