Old Husks - Dikembe

I honestly can’t say a single nice thing

Or much of anything for all of these insects

And their empires

Holding old husks

But I can say

I don’t miss the days

Of being a pawn or a martyr in somebody’s imperfect game

When the shows I take

Mean more than the points I make

Like how I say things that the earth shouldn’t take

How I’m screaming out

Like all the time

In hopes that these hang-ups will somehow unwind

When these terrible scenarios seem like all I know

So I’ll pack up some feelings to take to the grave

And I honestly can’t say a single nice thing

Or much of anything for all of these insects

And their empires

Holding old husks only for themselves

Only for themselves

A little insight into hell

A little comfort for our shells

And we stay cause it’s safe there

I admit I’m content

With this feeling of constant

Relapsing, reviving, then lying in wait

When the unhinged start of all these things I pull apart

Replace them with magic until it’s just not the same

A chorus line, set to off-half-time

Piece of the puzzle not quite set in frame

Then it creeps in like a soft wind

And I feel it all over like old, chipping paint

But the real world is compelled to spin

I wish that I could have felt anything since

So fuck all these insects and their empires

Holding old husks only for themselves

Only for themselves

Only for themselves

Only for themselves

Only for themselves