The world is gold, There’s never a better way For this story to be told. Through raindrops of butter, And milky ways that taste like honey, Something of minty flavour And tangy scent. I’m just this tangent, Iridescent, Purple dust of spectacular That shines when you’re alive. And all of this is nothing, The world is less than rust, And everything tastes like sorrow, But if you kiss me like there’s no tomorrow, The world is gold again, And there’s no better way.
For all the times when my body wasn’t mine, Please remember I was just a vessel, A pathway to something better. I had room to grow, I was still this cookie dough That legends talk about. All I could do was Resist and pout. Now I’m not better, And I’m not worse either. I’m the same vessel, With a little more stuff in me. I still have room to grow, And will probably do so Until there’s no more room left. Then this vessel won’t be as deft, And things will spill, And that’ll no longer be a skill. Spillage becomes louder, Spillage becomes death. Spillage becomes chowder, That’s when I’ll lose my breath.