Your gross fabrication of pretext could bore. Yet still I fall victim to syntax omitted. Just shy of something I could understand. . So blissful, I press on to the sound of the organs.
The apparitions tango to the sound of their heels tapping. A procession of prosthetic limbs and mannequins. They're all perfect models of imperfection.
Look alive gentleman. Or fake your death. Tour wounds undressed beneath your costumes. Some are so well rehearsed. For hearses it hurts. Always the first to wave the white flag.
Alongside all hearts. As they finish with backdrop cities. As jagged teeth are digging deeper. Ripping new wounds for former scars. Stricken with insomnia.
We have the chance to turn the pages over. We can write what we want to write. We gotta make ends meet before we get much older. . We're all someone's daughter, we're all someone's son.
It's my turn, it's not your turn. It's my turn, get outta my way. It's my turn, go on complain. I'm comin' through anyway. . Don't ask me why I'm like this.
Second Place to you is the last place I ever thought I'd be. and in this race the selfish survive while the selfless suffocate in suffering. I'm choking on the words that kept us alive.
We were younger then, you and me. Full of dreams, weren't we?. I went my way, you went yours. Where did you go, dear?. . Someone said, you have left. The life we lived, together then.
Its the consequence of privileged information. You can run, you can hide but light will find a way. And wither away, haunted and haunting. We all are followed by shadows from martyrs and mercenaries.
To be like You is what I want, Lord. To be like You is what I ask for. To be like You is what I'm longing for. 'Cause at the end of the day. This is what will remain.
The caravan of camp followers. Castrate clientele on the heels of their father's.. Destined to underachieve.. Never overcome the art of subversion.. .
Whatever the cost. From this day on, until forever. I will take the narrow road for I am not alone. I do not walk this road alone. . Yes, I believe in God, this I will say to You.
From the manger to the morgue. Strangers are born and reborn. Giving birth to the wages of sin. And claiming it came from within, within. . Within me there's a gaping hole.
Words and Music by Chris Pringle. . Verse 1. Who is He,. Who rides like the sun,. There's nothing He cannot do.. Who is He,. That sits on the throne,.
Lyrics by William C. Dix. Harmonized by John Stainer. Arranged by Tedd T. and Rebecca St. James. . What child is this, who laid to rest. On Marys lap was sleeping.
You don't know what it's been like. Meeting someone like you. You don't know what it's been like. Meeting someone like you. . You look like Jesus on a aeroplane.
Words and Music by Geoff Bullock and Brian Houston. . Verse. We will not bow to the world,. We will bow down to the Lord,. Take up the fight, take up the armor,.
Hook line and sinker. Your smoke and mirrors. I'll never take the bait. I'll never fallvfor those. Formats and figures. Your greedy fingers. Won't ever get their hands on me.
words fail her. why bother trying to pass off your offense as a good defense? he says,. "please don't treat me like a lawyer sweetie. . . . . .. there will be time for shouting matches.".
You can have the money, wheel it, deal it, win it all. You can have a lot of fashion, you can even own the mall. You can change your face into the person of your dreams.