Lied Too – Part 3 (No Pleasure)

Just passing the 26 mark not even a month ago
And I’m still finding tendrils in my jacket pockets
Once belonging to a plot so devious
Belonging to that despicable demon
Baiting us with nostalgia and elation
To make us return to life we abandoned

Asmodeus truly a world class con man
Got me believing I derive pleasure
From a process that’s got me reeling
Coming home with new scars, asking when’s next time
And these ain’t scars of love, they dictate damage
Not to pigments, but to the soul

Been tricked into thinking I was hungry
Getting fed just brings the bile to the surface
Maybe I don’t admit but I think I time travel
Like to pretend our first time is our hundredth time
Roleplay that I never lost 3 years of loving
In a hurry to speed to that level of trusting
But was it ever about feeling good? Gotta wonder
Does it ever feel good when it’d stir nothing in them
To learn you’ve sped to the grave the next day
Starting to question if it ever felt good
Well I spose once upon a time, back when it was a product
Of surrendering your entire life force in your love
Cos they earned it, with good care of your soul
You could end up in the centre of hell one day
And you know they’d be striking a deal with Beezlebub
To get your ass back in the land of the living
Only then did it feel good, but it don’t feel good no more

Getting sick of exposing my pulse to the kind of villains
Who’d treat me like an afterthought
Desecrate my temple to chase a resource
But I’m no better, I was a loyal servant of Asmodeus
All performative, hoping I could make you see stars
Make your walls pulsate as you elevate
Crossing my fingers for a 5 star review
Getting a leg in the hetronormative game
They about ready to count an autistic youth out
Doomed to fade into the bottom of the social status
Only to be given a lifeline by sexuality
But how long did I think it’d last?
No way you’ll earn respect from anyone
If you don’t respect yourself enough, to stop lying to yourself
You’re no man, or woman and that’s a new meta
Where these talents don’t lead to anything
So you destroy yourself on the frontlines in vain
Just to top up your trauma

Like going cold turkey, I’d go peculiar without it
Paranoid it was a sign love was running out
It’s absence is evidence that your love was getting sour
That she saw you stale, attractiveness going repugnant
But that just proves, like I say, it got performative
A must, no longer a want, desperation over passion
Kicking myself it took too long to recognise devotion
It’s the late nights talking through your suffering
It’s the understanding that they keep you in their thoughts
That stress when your feeling down and out
That little effort to brighten your day
That unannounced expression on your darkest days
You didn’t have to remind them it was an anniversary
Of your momma, god bless her, leaving this world
They just remembered and had the take out ready
Candle lit picnic, over co-op on the PS2

A exact copy of the energy you’ve always been willing to give
Maybe it’s time to start asking for it back?
And after time, when you let them into your life
When they’re a consideration in your future plans
Maybe it’ll start to feel good again
Maybe it’s time to make people earn it again

Sebastian Noël