Black by NowHere Lyrics
I got a to-do list of bad habits
Spending money like I have it
Living in havoc just to create
I can't afford to support my biggest influences
Because you either live lavish or you wait
Most only make enough to buy new paint
For their next project, but what color best represents honest?
That is without yet absorbs all concept
What artist absorbs every other artist
And illustrates the obvious in a way that we haven't thought yet?
What artist can do no wrong
Or does wrong so well that it's convincingly right?
The youth is living through death
By simply taking their time like it can't be taken away
By a reaper who doesn't let us overpopulate
She says, some get to go but some gotta stay at home
For most, hell is simply just being in one place
And for some, heaven is never having to show your face
All the things we make just to hide behind
Getting high on our own supply
Makes art is no longer a needle in the hay
But a syringe in the needles
Because everyone’s got a point but they care so very little
Originality junkies waiting for their chance to say something They're waiting for their names to be mentioned
Devising a plan to make themselves so important
By doing absolutely as little as possible
Taking advantage of the impressionable
Impersonating a hero as if you understand
What darkness that title holds, but I don't think you do
Because sadly, the truth is being without suffering
Is like being without parents
What could guide a human more than pain?
What will sculpt a carving better than a blade?
All these rich kids are orphans with over-stimulated endorphins
Strung out on their heroine mother and meth head father
With enough money to ensure that you will never be
Poor enough to experience true happiness
For some, it takes being deprived to feel alive
Others know the value of life without an attempt at death
And I can't stress it enough; I'm stressed enough as it is
So, I take my time like it can't be taken away
Don't tell me you're biting the bullets
When all your problems are blank
I swear that I used to have a mind that's full
But now my head just aches from all these kids
That are so colorful and quick to throw the shade
When you're the only one to blame for forgetting
That the world is not the past tense of whirl
Even if our lives seem stagnate
If we had a perfect view of the planet through glass
Could we look past our reflection to see it?
Or do we just see ourselves pretending to take the view in?
Acting like we give a shit
For the sake of the viewership that’s already sunken
We are an audience in a submarine
Falling deeper into ocean water and calling it space
We are a group of people with the same thoughts as our ancestors
Still left with no answers, still left with no way
Too clever to show that we have no idea what to do with the day
So we wait for the night, because it's easier to plague
Tomorrow with the burden of sobriety
Crossing our fingers that the sun is gone for good
So we don't have to be drunk driving my own hearse in all white
Because everyday I was alive, I wore nothing but black
Because black is the only thing that is honest
It doesn't pretend to be something it isn't
It doesn't desire, it doesn't weep, it doesn't exist
And that's what makes it honest
Because when you are nothing, you can do no wrong
Spending money like I have it
Living in havoc just to create
I can't afford to support my biggest influences
Because you either live lavish or you wait
Most only make enough to buy new paint
For their next project, but what color best represents honest?
That is without yet absorbs all concept
What artist absorbs every other artist
And illustrates the obvious in a way that we haven't thought yet?
What artist can do no wrong
Or does wrong so well that it's convincingly right?
The youth is living through death
By simply taking their time like it can't be taken away
By a reaper who doesn't let us overpopulate
She says, some get to go but some gotta stay at home
For most, hell is simply just being in one place
And for some, heaven is never having to show your face
All the things we make just to hide behind
Getting high on our own supply
Makes art is no longer a needle in the hay
But a syringe in the needles
Because everyone’s got a point but they care so very little
Originality junkies waiting for their chance to say something They're waiting for their names to be mentioned
Devising a plan to make themselves so important
By doing absolutely as little as possible
Taking advantage of the impressionable
Impersonating a hero as if you understand
What darkness that title holds, but I don't think you do
Because sadly, the truth is being without suffering
Is like being without parents
What could guide a human more than pain?
What will sculpt a carving better than a blade?
All these rich kids are orphans with over-stimulated endorphins
Strung out on their heroine mother and meth head father
With enough money to ensure that you will never be
Poor enough to experience true happiness
For some, it takes being deprived to feel alive
Others know the value of life without an attempt at death
And I can't stress it enough; I'm stressed enough as it is
So, I take my time like it can't be taken away
Don't tell me you're biting the bullets
When all your problems are blank
I swear that I used to have a mind that's full
But now my head just aches from all these kids
That are so colorful and quick to throw the shade
When you're the only one to blame for forgetting
That the world is not the past tense of whirl
Even if our lives seem stagnate
If we had a perfect view of the planet through glass
Could we look past our reflection to see it?
Or do we just see ourselves pretending to take the view in?
Acting like we give a shit
For the sake of the viewership that’s already sunken
We are an audience in a submarine
Falling deeper into ocean water and calling it space
We are a group of people with the same thoughts as our ancestors
Still left with no answers, still left with no way
Too clever to show that we have no idea what to do with the day
So we wait for the night, because it's easier to plague
Tomorrow with the burden of sobriety
Crossing our fingers that the sun is gone for good
So we don't have to be drunk driving my own hearse in all white
Because everyday I was alive, I wore nothing but black
Because black is the only thing that is honest
It doesn't pretend to be something it isn't
It doesn't desire, it doesn't weep, it doesn't exist
And that's what makes it honest
Because when you are nothing, you can do no wrong