I woke up late to no alarm,. but no one else was on time.. We waited endlessly,. just to see the sunshine.. . "Happy Graduation Tim," we said just as we hit the door..
Don't say goodnight, and walk away without that kiss that you owe me.. Don't close your eyes, and say you don't want me. I wish that you'd want me now..
Hold your breath when you see me walking by. I'm obsessed with movies, Barbed Wire, throw a stiletto in ya eye. I confess, I'm like Jesse James in an Ames parking lot.
(C. Kirschner, A. Reid). Produced by Concetta Kirschner for Concetta Music (BMI). Additional Production by Curtis Curtis for The Vertical Corporation (BMI) and Walter Sipser. Samadia Music (ASCAP) Bahamadia appears courtesy Goodvibe/B-Girl/J. Core Recordings. Live Horns by Paula Henderson and Steve Moses. Bass by Walter Sipser. Live drums by Lee Farber..
I'm not the baddest or the maddest or the Central Park address. No Chivas, no Lexus, ain't got the flattest solar plexus. I throw it down with everything I got.
People are scared. And people don't know what it is. What they want, from this life?. They think they're right. They think they're great. They talk about themselves.
It's just a cigarette and it cannot be that bad. Honey don't you love me and you know it makes me sad?. It's just a cigarette like you always used to do.
So you think it's over .... Let me tell a story .... The pain will never go away .... Never.... I see a shadow every day and night. I walk " The hundered street's " of neonlights.
If you don't know wich way to turn. Don't cry for me when both end burn. Stop worryng about her he'll be okay. She'll die a little bit like lovers do every day.
The crippled oracle breathes his lungs like grit. His blackened hands, like maps of ungodly lands. Skin as leather, burnt by the sun. This world is not for him, this world is not for you nor I.
I am the eye of the storm. Axis Mundi, I fall to my knees. I've realized my dark dreams, father. I have become I spread my seed. . Have I not brought you to these ends.
Moonlight bathes my heart. The birds sing my serenade. The trees are whispering my. Name... my name. . Dark romanticism, of a. Kind seen no more.... Lament my name when I am.
"I have crossed the seas, I have left cities behind me,. and I have followed the source of rivers towards their. source or plunged into forests, always making for other.
There is plague at the door. It begs to be among us. In the ashen dreams of crippled children. . There is sickness in the soil. Nothing grows this side of Eden.
I am cut from the cloth of Judas. And have seen his face in mine. The weathered hands that turn the pages. Are scattered in the sun. My ship has the blackest sails.
Soiled hands of work, to pit a Nations Fall. Skeletal hands upon the coffers of the Old World. Ghosts of Men, re-writing history. Red ink, from the well of Martyrdom.
Funeral winds... caress the flame. The naked fire that soothes my flesh. In darkness I can ask for little more. . Then a Samhain fire to lead the dead.
You... gave me strenght to carry on. You... pass all wordly troubles unto me. You... gave my time meaning. You... left your sorrow for my soul. . I love you.
Bring the women. and children before me. Let us make rivers of their blood. Bleed for me...I wish it so. and streams shall meet such rivers. and seaward they shall flow.
Here there is no god he is ground to dust. In the death machine of industry. The iron hearse sent on bitter tracks to the Gulag. Suffering forged between the hammer and sickle.