I've been thinking now for a long time. How to go my own separate way. It's a shame to think about yesterday. It's a shame, a shame, a shame, a shame.
The voice asleep, the voice has vanished. From the top of the sky to the place below. Touch the surface and the mirror bends. Your words resound, out of control.
Just a step onto the street. An uncomfortable heat. Rattlers at your feet. In running town. . Helter-skelter all a-swelter. The impetus is seething. In running town.
He trembles in the bitter wind. Until it's time for us to speak. Whilst others here are sleeping sound. I'll slip away by floorboard creak. . Upon the hill he'll hear my secrets.
In the soil of are sadness. Hear our hearts bell a serenade. A faint choir tenderly shaping. A lament a hollow refuge. . In the blood of the twinkling sky.
Wonder where that plane is leading to. Wonder where that boat will ever stop. Wonder if this path I am treading. Will disappear and let me drop. . Down to a hell that's surely waiting.
nets rest on a death's head mask. No one is safe while the curfew lasts. But crusted orbs glitter, sceptres gleam. While helmets of blood fill the screen.
the woods and the town. covered in snow. all transformed to a fairytale. like the fresh page of a book opened up. ready. waiting. for the story to begin.
She falls into frame with a professional pout. But the Polaroids ignite upon seeing their subject. And the aperture shuts, too much exposure. . Voyeur sucks into focus, floodlit the glossy kiss pit.
Bad word. Or bad deed. Unpunished invites grief. Here's. Rawhead and Bloodybones. . Reaching from. Dark cupboard. Crouching under stair,. Lurking in chimney.
Tongues are clacking words of one vision. One tiny incision and teeth are cracking. . on thin air, on thin air. And teeth are cracking on thin air. Pulled to bits--in silence.
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This catacomb compels me. Corroding and inert. It waits and tries to pull me. Must I resist or re-assert?. . The unchanged and the unchangeable. Doing the zombierama.
In Flanders fields. The poppies grow. Between the crosses. Row on row. That mark our place. We are the dead.... . Related. . 18 Non-Traditional Yet Perfect Wedding Songs.
From the fury pit, a reek of misery. Like a trumpet groan, tornado moan. The splendor splits like a golden skin. He and the wizards cry like humming birds.
Hanging.... Hanging from your daisy chains. Swinging in the trees. Running from your enemies. And falling on your knees. On your knees. Get down on your knees.
you dip your hands into my flesh. and say you won't reveal a scar. I must have faith in this procedure. it's a miracle, it's a wonder. a thousand hidden needles.
Your parties fall around you. Another night beckons to you. Your parties fall around you. Another night beckons to you. . Shadows look as you resist the gloom.
Look to the hills -- now look at my face. Do you notice my eyes -- are they in the right place?. . There's a Mantovani backdrop -- to pucker-up a tummy tuck.
Got to give up life in this netherworld. Got to go up to where the air is stale. And live a life of pleasantries. Mingle in the modern families. . Overground--from abnormality.