Papier-Mache Poem by Hunter Skye

If the world were a mermaid, I'd see it through your cynical eyes
The crow scrapped its way through my chest, I'm alive
Each feather, a blessing which left
My lungs have grown mildew, as it gets harder to breathe
When the subconscious mind throw darts at me
Hit all the nerves, crashing waves arrive
[: I tuck and roll the river flows: ] x3 the river flows

The fire won't go out, the flame is breaking the skin
I built a papier-mache church out of sin
Not knowing the air we breathe
Has already been poisoned

I'm starving my inner constellations
My mind and soul are in a different universe
Colliding with a millennium of bad choices

You call it quicksand, I call it a slow way out, you call it quicksand

The volcano erupts in my rib cage
The tsunami is wrecking the town
And [: I'm sure as hell not going back there: ] x3 going back there

[: The fire won't go out, the flame is breaking the skin
I built a papier-mache church out of sin
Not knowing the air we breathe
Has already been poisoned: ] x2

[: has already been poisoned: ] x2 [: its already been poisoned: ] x2