Texty: 504 Plan. Treehouse Talk. Cancer.

Infected deep inside,
prosthetic light, falls over my eyes,
and these words were spoke in fear,
catacombs of rotten smiles,

did i mention that im real,
all this light shines through me,
i ride reflections in your eyes,
and notice im not broken,
happiness was linked with pain,
cancer made me do this,
fields of fallen angels cry,
while i was singing,

break these walls,
i break my hands,
the lies that ive been told again,
elastic feelings tend to snap and then break,
the world burned down without my help