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Umbrella
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Early Writings Johnny's umbrella, sways the wind around, floating all the rain
beyond him, never will he see the hell, maybe that should come to end itself...
I'll eat fashion's corpse, bleed my way out of my pain
The purest umbrella is not a given savior, put me down...
Flee with me and maybe, I'll remember why we came here
Maybe our reality is only our reality, may everything is only an illusion..? Maybe the primates were our prime example,
What if the rain turned into hail?
What if sandals told the future? Where the rain never shines
The bugs never hive, and Johnny knows his way back home? The umbrella has been broken...
I'll smoke my metaphore, until the membrane, but I still need my umbrella. My muscles start to meld, the gentle snow hits the land, the elves come out to play.
So what is our forecast forour life? I feel that I'll still need my umbrella...
