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middle finger in the air if ur pussy's tight
millionaires - party like a millionaire

tunnan och moroten jul

typ allting nick cave skrivit

Someday - the strokes

Meshuggah - Stifled

Impotent king beneath our feet
You can rule down where you belong
In dirt compacted, buried deep, you dwell with those you wronged

Down there you can whisper, yell, even blare your odious lies
To your silent audience of worms as they share with you, your eyes
Tyrant, oppressor
Your once resounding voice now just muted cries

You self-avowed murderous god
Ranks of annelids now you delegate
Your commands unheard under ground
Where your voice will never resonate

Your time has come
Declare the majesty fallen
Your dominance, your hateful influence forever stifled

Your sleep no longer impermanent
Decaying matter now sums you up
Like all the lives you've taken
Now so are you retreating to dust

Converge - Jane Doe

These floods of you are unforgiving
Pushing passed me spilling through the banks

And I fall

Faster than light and faster than time
That's how memory works
At least in the dark where I'm searching for meaning
Where I'm just searching for something

I want out
Out of every ackward day
Out of every tongue tied loss
I want out

Out of the burdening nightsweats
Out of the rising seas of blood
Lost in you like saturday nights
Searching the streets with bedroom eyes
Just dying to be saved
Run on girl, run on

Converge - In Her Shadow

She is at the end, chasing her own fading light
Running from her shadow in the name of living
Searched for worth in the lust of men
Paid in blood in different beds
Mistaking sex for true love

They never meant a thing

Her addiction brought her a world
of coward boys and of cheater girls

Looking for an easy way out of being ordinary

So she boarded their sinking ship
and crossed their red needle sea
Drowning truth to live her lie
That she was ordinary
in her fading shadow

Defeater - But Breathing

Unwanted, but breathing
In the next room, sleeping
My mother, she's crying
And my father's been drinking
In our run-down apartment
Where the roof is still leaking
He's cursing and cussing
It's just the whiskey talking

And I've got lots of memories like this one
Of empty days and nights spent tired and lonesome
When I think back... to all of it
It's all too much
Oh, it's all too much when you're just a little kid

My little brother, just a newborn baby
And the image of my mother, says he's a blessing
But not to my father, oh how he hates him
"An undeserving mistake"
He calls him a burden
And I've got lots of memories like this one
Of picking sides and picking fights between them
And when I think back... to all of it
Well, it's all too much
Well, it's all too much when you're just a little kid

And when I wake up in the morning it all feels like a bad dream
One that follows you and haunts you endlessly
Yeah, haunts me endlessly

Well, broken and beaten from the abuse and the cheating,
the addiction, and the lying and the promise of leaving
While my old man was a bastard, I admired and loved him
And us two kids, we were born in to a family,
not a fortune

You limp into the dark woods,
Blood oozing from your stump leg.
But you have won.
You have beaten Shia LaBeouf

Wait! He isn't dead! Shia Surprise!
There's a gun to your head, and death in his eyes.
But you can do Jiu Jitsu
Body Slam superstar Shia LaBeouf
Legendary fight with Shia LaBeouf
Normal Tuesday night for Shia LaBeouf
You try to swing an axe at Shia LaBeouf
But blood is draining fast from your stump leg

Shia LaBeouf - Rob Cantor

Citat från Hibiscus:

Vem sa att Jesus inte kan vara svart även Luke Skywalkers daddy var på den mörka sidan

"Ragnar" och "dödliga vapen" av Mattias Alkberg 10/10

I just say whatever I want to whoever I want
Whenever I want, wherever I want, however I want

Don't censor me man

Falling in Reverse - Brother

Så fin låt <3

The Amenta - Nihil

First came the word.
And that word was nothing
Soundless syllables in boundless thought.
Is this it ? Or all ? Or everything
A reflection between parallel mirrors ?
In a book never written
Seen through a frameless window
Nihil Est.

The opiate of the masses.
Diluted and polluted.
Curls in wisps over vacant idols
To stillborn children
Mother nature gave birth to husks
That dissolve and decay back to dirt
In the melody between notes
In the notes in arrest
In discord in a chord
Nihil est

In the words between lines
In the worst of the best
In the dust in the pews
Nihil Est

Like words of empty praise
Washing over an empty congregation
Like a cancelled play, played out
To a sleeping audience of mannequins
Like a television flickering
Static in an empty concrete room
In thoughts so vast nothing is possible
When nothing exists everything is always permitted
Existence is no great gift
Death is not a beginning
But in nothing it is a rift

Love, Hate in a cold dream
A cold clockwork circumstance
A random unknown hidden in simple patterns
It's a chalk outline, not a halo
Leave crutches for cripples
Leave dependence to drones
Lies to the harvest for truth to be sown

In the melody between notes
In the notes in arrest
In discord in a chord
Nihil est

In the words between lines
In the worst of the best
In the dust in the pews
Nihil Est

G-Mo Skee - When did it become cool to be a sick fuck?

Eyedea & Abilities - Color My World Mine är ett underbart mindfuck.

I once met a man who trained himself not to dream
What he seems to have seen was a glimpse of everything
He's been painting pictures on canvas since age thirteen
and claims he only exists in the mind of a higher being
And I enjoy his work; mostly scenic landscapes
But each one is focused on an easel where the man paints himself painting himself
and all that's in his visual field
He said this was the only way he could make himself real
Ever since he could remember, he had one nightmare reoccur
But until about ten years ago, it didn't matter
It consisted of loud, distorted sounds echoing off the concrete
He ran on top of it in attempt to reach a ladder
Now sometimes, he'd get so close but never touch his destination
Which caused him much frustration cause he didn't know what it meant
And by the end of the dream, he saw the scene from a bird's eye
Only to witness his dead body laying on the cement

It was only to witness his dead body laying on the cement
At first it freaked him out, but after a while he grew content
So he thought, "It's just a dream", and kept living his life
Writing his soul on the canvas cause it sheds his planet light
And it goes on and on like space and time, ain't nothing odd
It's not that he didn't believe, he just didn't approve of God
His experience was one I couldn't comprehend
until I stopped being detective and listened to him as a friend,
He said

He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
It was then that he knew he was the art of divinity
He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
A brush stroke of the gods made him one note in their symphony
He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
He spoke for himself and not the rest of humanity
He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
And I realized that I'm not real
God just imagined me

It's like I said:
About ten years ago, the event that changed his whole reality
took place on his monthly trip to the local art gallery
It was there where he studied his contemporaries
And there where he nearly carried his sanity to a hole and buried it forever
It was a very mysterious day, the place was almost empty
and he got chills down his spine just being present in the scene
On the wall, there was a picture that looked familiar
And when he got close, his heart stopped, because he saw it was a painting of his dream
It was a painting of his dream, his body on a runway
By a ladder to an airplane with its propellers spinning
Which accounted for the loud noise, the match-up was perfect
And that was the day he stopped believing in existing
He resented his creator, I mean, words can't explain
what must have went on in his brain, while he stared into a frame
of a work of art which he created and was at the same time
The mind can't handle that much, it's just insane
It's like reading a book where each word describe your thoughts
and in quotations, it reads whatever you say when you talk
You think it can't happen, but it did happen
I guess there's surprisingly wide cracks in each life's sidewalk
He stumbled upon an answer when he never had a question
And decided to stop dreaming to maintain his mental health
Now he hardly talks to people, just stays in his basement
Writing infinity, by painting himself painting himself

This is a strange universe
Is it all just a blueprint?
In the real universe, is my consciousness useless?
Are we really something a higher intelligence made up?
A figment of imagination colored by a cosmic paintbrush?

Maybe all of our art creates the fate of other beings
Then every character in every novel thinks it's alive and we're just gods ruling blindly
Just a theory
I don't know what it means
But that's the story of the man who trained himself not to dream

He once saw a paining that told his whole life story
He witnessed the paradox of the word "existing"
He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
He colored his world theirs, and concluded he wasn't living
He once saw a painting that told his whole life story
The hidden variable that all that is, is art
And when I close my eyes, I see eternity as a story
A God imagined the God that imagined me
And I am God
And so on, and so on, and so on, and so on...