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ibø - empty lyrics

emptiness is that hungry feeling we get in our stomachs after coming to sad realizations. emptiness is that hollow feeling in our gut when our psyches are side swiped and we think we’ve been crushed, but really just suffering from borderline traumatic abrasions. ironically, what trumps my growth accelerates my inspiration, like an air conditioner with chronic depression, i use this pad to vent my high-infused frustrations

my instincts and emotionless thoughts sink deeper than the sea floor, the sand fills up the sh-ll and represents all that i’ve filled up for.. living in a sh-ll, sand fills up my vision and clogs my perspective. living in a sh-ll, this sh-ll a sh-ll of my former cell or in other words self, i look into the mirror, at least i see myself and can finally say i’m reflective

picture s-x pistols cd’s and morrissey c-ssettes. imagine smelly burden drenched in the residue of emotionless s-x. the things that we think we know are overtaken by the things we believe to perceived and when we want to resort to plan b, we notice that when we’re comforted, we’re really deceived

envision your vision stripped down from two bifocals to one contact. picture yourself snapping without a shot devoid of the ability to have a fear to combat. put yourself in my shoes but don’t step on my feet, make my bed but don’t f-ck up my sheets. even now that we’re broken, you have me promising to every day count my cents. even though our bank account is closed, i overdraw this picture like weed crumbs on my sweater dismissed as pothead with suspicious scent

diary of a fiend, dumping blunt ashes in the kitchen trash can. won’t change myself for anyone, even if the only person i consistently talk to is my weed man. sleepless nights don’t always equal weepless fights. we’re sometimes too illiterate to write our wrongs, but sometimes too f-cked up to wrong our rights

life is a simple lap at the pool until you’re swimming in the main stream. swimming back and forth, stroking backwards thoughts that i’ve dove into in repet-tive dreams. the main lane makes direction all the more complicated. just like death makes life all the more fabricated

- ibo lyrics

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