Once more, with feeling…
So shoot me, mo’fo’s, I like playing bass guitar and writing sad poems. Am I a real-life Marceline? That’s for you to project, and you to project alone. I am living my truth, Marceline is fictional.
I tried to eliminate every single bar line in the whole song, while also using a drum track. A magnificent feat, if I do say so myself.
–by Becky WTGH
What am I even doing?
I don’t know anyone here.
I don’t know anyone anywhere.
I was never known. I’m only now just getting-to-know.
I like it, but who knows
what I’m even doing.
I thought that I was known?
Nothing can be known, that’s what I’ve learned.
I thought that I had been recognized.
Now, I know this is impossible.
We are all, inevitably imposters.
Fully disguised, performed,
I hoard my secrets, in every way.
I like it when you polish yours;
go on, show-off now!
Once–you took pictures, kept diaries.
Now–you’ve thrown me away.
All, will surely do the same.
we are all alone,
in our own way.