Thursday 24 July 2008 photo 1/1
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listen up sweetie.
we all know that youre a beautiful girl in this horrible world.
in this suggestion of horror
the portraits on the walls...
look at their eyes, they always seem to follow.
look at their eyes... they always seem to follow me!
out of tune, this tale of terror.
the solemn tolling of the funeral bells.
i want to know whats going in this pretty little head of yours
where every-days a bone pallace ballet.
biting the flesh from your finger.
you know, i just cant help myself.
i wish to believe, but believe is a graveyard.
may this night never see the morning, as finally one will not.
maybe youre the one thats overrated.
shriek, scream, much too horrified to speak.
this morning I woke up
I rubbed my eyes and
I took a quick glance around the room
and saw what happened here last night
there was blood on the walls
and the sheets smelled like sweat and sex
we have narrowed it down to a butcher knife
and the mockingbird with the blood.
flowers of red, begin to bloom on the white sheets in her room.
our lifeless bodies, lying there rotting. for all of time, and serenity
listen up sweetie.
we all know that youre a beautiful girl in this horrible world.
in this suggestion of horror
the portraits on the walls...
look at their eyes, they always seem to follow.
look at their eyes... they always seem to follow me!
out of tune, this tale of terror.
the solemn tolling of the funeral bells.
i want to know whats going in this pretty little head of yours
where every-days a bone pallace ballet.
biting the flesh from your finger.
you know, i just cant help myself.
i wish to believe, but believe is a graveyard.
may this night never see the morning, as finally one will not.
maybe youre the one thats overrated.
shriek, scream, much too horrified to speak.
this morning I woke up
I rubbed my eyes and
I took a quick glance around the room
and saw what happened here last night
there was blood on the walls
and the sheets smelled like sweat and sex
we have narrowed it down to a butcher knife
and the mockingbird with the blood.
flowers of red, begin to bloom on the white sheets in her room.
our lifeless bodies, lying there rotting. for all of time, and serenity