You are every ounce of horror every reminding second of a completely terrible life, you're the single most constant mistake of why most my bodyaches
Inside old houses behind closet doors they form single file lines i will not dedicate a day to a life size nativity scene nor will my passer by notice
That whisper, your lovely curling razor, mistakenly wound around my tongue to squeeze some fucking truth from that wicked obsession, your obsession
I can hear her footsteps beating closer. This may be my only chance. In a shadow of doubt I doubt our shadows kissed in dance. Without lips or eyes
I demand you all in my attention i say what i want i want a standing ovation at my funeral for miles to be seen from behind the limousines and
Shut your fucking mouth tradition does not seem to be working because of it's mechanical tone it's one that paralyzes my thoughts and defies my suspense
Reston Crew, back again, South Lakes High, where we attend Favorite sweaters in hand, we march to the store Every Friday night is a brand new bore