Sunday, November 18, 2012

S.O.S: Stigmas Of Sowing: There's a feeling you get when you lose something precious (like her crown)/yes, there's a feeling, you can bet/when you let it all hang down: Romance is very obscure/much like the phantom... strenuous, arduous, venomous/I was gonna stand tall/even if the deck did fall - O, my lost brother, when the son's going down/I look-out for myself/when there's nobody around/plastic smiles, on a pedestal to see/shallow laughs, all knowing to me/your destiny is an ever descending tease/yet, your destination is a forever ascending peace - Butt, alas, my mind was numb from thinking/my heart never more jaded/about life's humour that's stinking/and all that's outrated - It was silent in my house now/my arms hung-down like a dead-head of beer/my skull hung-down like a piñata/never again was I able to fear 

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