Director Cut and SliceDirector's Cut and SliceDirector Cut and Slice by Boss-of-the-Game
What the devil is he doing here?!
Youre not supposed to be here!
Youre supposed to be
Actually, youre not supposed to be
The internal bleeding begins.
Wouldnt, couldnt write your script,
Plays itself just to get rid of you.
You have no point in my plot.
So you couldnt do enough to stay good?
And nothing else is good enough?
Ive clawed with my sharpest nails,
The walls of freedom and circumstance,
But even plagues arent as obstinate as you.
You are not my mind,
I barricade myself in,
How do you still end up inside?
I see the hideous silhouette in the mirror,
Standing, still, barely visible in the dark hall,
Right in my path.
Barricaded myself here,
Dead to anything true or in need of my touch,
That is, until I had enough.
And Ive had enough.
You just dont understand.
You just do not un
Non-SequiturNon-SequiturNon-Sequitur by Boss-of-the-Game
Every day that I scream in my car all alone,
Is another night that I cant kiss my pillow.
The steering wheel freezes my hands through my gloves,
And streetlights flash like colorful stars,
Until they go cold and die,
As I watch them pass through the tinted part.
I could be so much more if thats believable
In and out of places like the entrance revolving doors,
At the first hint of my mind, I make my circle right back out.
My heart haunts my heart of hearts,
Living in an inaccurate non-sequitur sequel,
Taking a journey in a random series of teleports,
Never once setting on foot resting, but not setting.
You know Im right even if you listen only to lies
My trail of burned gasoline could throw off a bloodhound,
Though Ive been obvious as politics about being found.
Like a cartoon character boarding windows and doors,
It still finds its way inside and in my blindspot,
Making slapstick comedy out of character-bashing,
The Shadows Have RisenThe Shadows Have RisenThe Shadows Have Risen by Boss-of-the-Game
Welcome my clever,
Sweet young collector,
This is a land of cars,
An entire world of debts,
Your hopes and dreams,
Built on past generation regrets.
They toss a shining disk,
A yo-yo with a string attached,
For your good looks, my child,
Now theres the catch!
My day at work smelled of cigarette smoke,
Lingering on a particularly loathsome patient,
Im afraid Ive soiled my cuffs,
Slipped past the cracks of the equation.
The definitions that surround you,
Shackles on your ankles.
A custom prison you regurgitated for,
But the lesson has learned your spirit poor.
Its a sparkly hell for the sweetest dreamers,
So many prestigious hostage situations for more than two.
The roof that shelters, prevents ghosts from moving on,
Is the actor of flamboyant view,
Inevitably mother star rains down hot,
Never condoning to be something youre not.
Someone save us from this glamorous oubliette,
That they are inside us, cannot let them forget.
Road of the ShadowRoad of the ShadowRoad of the Shadow by Boss-of-the-Game
When the devil damaged someone I loved,
I could smell the alcohol on his breath miles away.
I slap myself every time I let it seep into my daydreams,
Nothing could have prepared me,
For my imagination having been ripped from the inside.
A silent protector,
Ive kept these feelings to myself until theyve become resolve.
She has no idea what I was really thinking behind my supportive words
None at all
The faceless victim you didnt know about,
Im the shadow that reaches you from the other side of the road.
Your horizon is darkened,
And mine currently isnt my own.
I suppose I should thank you when I condemn you,
Kept my enemy rather closer than my friends.
Learned to control my breathing,
My heart rate,
My treading lightly,
I find meaning in the fluid nature,
Burns that wont extinguish.
All clueless to trauma,
Her and I were but children,
But this is what its like to grow up too fast,
Current Residence: Norm Town|
Favourite genre of music: Depends only on the individual artists
Personal Quote: "Everyone gets in fighting moods... I just like to fight big things."