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
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
pattern recognition
pentru ca avem nevoie de cineva care sa ne explice ce s-a intimplat cu noi
pentru ca totul trebuie facut cu raceala, cu un "poise"
pentru ca, odata pierdute, amintirile stralucesc nefiresc, ca gheata aruncata pe o bucata de pamint
1 comment:
faza asta nebuna cu amintirile, cu stralucirea asta a lor care orbeshte, cu durerea shi bucuria car o starnesc, ce ma mai poate enerva...
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