DeathCabForEmily

the fire's burning brightly in your lungs like a neon corporation. buysellbuysell poster boy, with a stick between your lips, spread the fever and he makes you sweat. the thick, heady smell will envelope you like postage, white stained a nicotine-yellow with casual addictions. we are the future and we are faceless so feed me drugs and drown me in paranoia, i'm not too sure what's honest when even a grocery store is a slutty trap with kids handing me gimmicks; it's at their level and that cartoon is selling sugar too sweetly.