We’re all searching for That Special Someone
but is That Special Someone searching for us?

Things like this and things like that I like to think
when I light up
when I light the sky
when I paint over my each mistake
with Pantone 2905 C.
La-dee-fucking-da.

How do I know I’m evil?
Easy: my mind’s a snare
and my words bait.
And if you’re not yet sure what that makes you,
then come closer
and hear me out.

When the Yakuza make a mistake, they cut off a finger
from the joint.
Well, I ain’t Yakuza, am I?
I ain’t a horse’s head on a king-size bed
made to scare straight shooters.
These thoughts – beasts loose in Labyrinth.
If God only knows – then why won’t he tell?
His heaven may as well be a hell
so I’ll stay down here,
a mere mortal among mere mortals,
condemned to repeat it.

The sun’s in my eyes and I have nothing yet figured out.
There’s rain on the horizon and I’m made of sugar.
Fuck the life. Locked are the jaws that devour light.
You are not the air that I breathe:
the air that I breathe is the air that I breathe.

How do I know I’m evil?
Easy: I just do.

So that’s how I know.