A bad joke without lines
Punch the air, hands collapse in desperate coma
My eyes pinpoint out the illusion, a bad dream these ties
A stale and ugly kiss
Handsome ridges melt away the layers of waste, think prodding savior eating away at raw nerve flesh
...
Self-medicating ghost of times past forgotten
There is no dark pride in loneliness
Escape those thick heads, denounce those addictions and memory fade
What?s your pleasure, pistol or syringe?
...Watch those memories
Or drop dead
Thursday, February 8, 2007
îi ascultă bătăile inimii
el îi verifică pulsul o iubeşte cu ochii
se uită în focus o iubeşte cu privirea
2 comments:
Anonymous
said...
textul ăsta e scris de vali cu un font mai mare decît de obicei
2 comments:
textul ăsta e scris de vali cu un font mai mare decît de obicei
ei, uite ca NU :) one down, still to go :)
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