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
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
no place no name no number
am gasit locul cel mai misto dintre toate pe care le am vazut pina acum, o sa mi l amintesc in filmul care se deruleaza in cele citeva secunde inainte sa mori
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