this shirt screams “i’m not still fucked up from last…
i began to tell a grim story of a puppy left alone beneath an overcast sky at first i saw a lost dog sad and without
he lights one last flame home is where the burning is bed of devil’s rest
still he saws at the legs of his Steinway old habits only die hard so he tickles the ivory cigarette hanging from his lips
and death is spreading through the… violets are blue and the zombie in the mirror is me when the bones start
you drag a soul around in a body and some nights it’s a bag of bricks wondering if there’s anything left to dream for
when it is most impossible to be there for yourself
i was born in a basket of apples out of place from the start always berated by questions like “where is your stem?” “why are you so round?”
when she doesn’t love you the guts are pulled out from insid… life spills from the bones and your heart forgets to beat you become a ghost
loading the chamber to kill that which he fears most one round will suffice
a $5 footlong at Subway before a meeting on Thursday Burnin’ For You came on the speak… i wanted to call you
it is not often that i think of peace or of the soldier i believe war is inevitable
dear deity as the world continues to fall apa… in my heart it is clear to me that you do not hear me that you do not fear for me
i love music i know everyone does but i really do nothing can soothe me as much as
when the neighbors would bang on t… screaming through them telling him to stop for the love of god it is three in the morning
