This camera is shooting bullets. You aim it and you pull it.
A thousand poison darts nail my heart against the wall. A thousand pointed words forgotten but not unheard. Glossing over all our fights with glossy black and whites. 'Cause I’ve been pouring over photo albums, all those guys? Well you can have them. With the happiness those images convey. I will never make you feel that way.
Every time nostalgia lies. like too much makeup on your face and eyes. Like last years styles on all your girls. And the fakest fucking smiles in the world.
These photos work me over and my brain works over time. Filling gaps between photos before these photos became mine. Will our immortal image only serve to annoy? All your future lovers pretty girls and ugly boys
Cause I’ve been adding up all your subtractions pondering our interactions with all the awkwardness it takes to watch you flirt. When every pictures worth a thousand hurts.