Verse 1
Here’s a souvenir for the blood splattered tears
Washed away by the rain the moment it hit the pavement
A wave of realization
Summoned by the same beast that created it
Destroyed by that feeling of inspiration
Self destruction by nature
Conflicted by the anger
Confusion lead to hatred
Stress is the anchor
The portrait of the murdered
Lost, In terms of misinterpreted
My last words imperfectly worded
Its the second coming of something beautiful
I planted nooses in loopholes my neck couldn’t fit through
My corpse is cold like the silence you speak
The dark day harbored visions of mystic
Skepticism consumes my body this week
Actions of presumptuous beings should never preach
I hope you know pieces of me died within your soul
Here’s a souvenir of what remains, for you to hold

Verse 2
I wake up numb Day 1 my body is almost ready
Make up of a mad man, eyes outlined in misconception
You’ve dotted the T’s and crossed out my eyes
I Stitched my mouth shut while you force feed me lies
I’m a glutton for the dysfunction
The angles mislead my first steps towards recovering
Deception, the mask of imperfection
Beauty, the secondary mask of confusion
The chronicles of Nemitz. The flesh is the canvas
Scars, tattoo’s, The artistry of anguish
The brush strokes gently outline the vague image
The base is water based mixed with blood on my face
Its a vivid depiction of what I witnessed
My flesh deteriorating off the bones of my existence
And once again I will relive this
But until the dawning of my next death … I’m finished

Verse 3
Its a morbid rigormortis, I’m stiff from the habituates
Delusions of destiny on the doorstep of addiction
My mechanical heart pumps, disperse through the arteries
Energize my apathy but dismantles every other part of me
So now half of my face is decayed
I’m laying in the fluids that once made me operate
Fuck fate, I have and will always be a deadbeat
But now I’m just dead with no beat left inside me
I watch you cry off in the distance
Imposed by the fact that your were the one who did this
If you were the one who broke it, I’m not responsible to fix it
I cant reverse time and pull that knife out of my spine
I’m still convulsing, collapsed, 6 feet deep
And the only question in my mind is stuck on repeat
How long have I been dead to you? I’m sorry you had to witness this
It was the life I lived, I love you all … its been a privilege



Joined April 2008

  • Artist

Artist's Description

This is about how I died to someone. I no longer exist in their world.
Though they can hold a piece of me in their heart forever like a souvenir.
“How long have I been dead to you?”

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