Frantic
Is the person
Who rushes into things,
Who pays meagre or no thinking,
And swims...
Frantic
Is the person
Who rushes into things,
Who pays meagre or no thinking,
And swims...
And swims
And spins my mind
Through clouds of fogginess
The sweetest wine and finest spirits
To taste
To taste
The finest breasts,
To rub them to my chest,
Kiss them in a hopeless caress,
And long...
And long
May be the road
And tired may be the legs
But the journey is better made
Than not
The cold,
Pushing you down
With the wind, and the ice.
Rise, just to be pushed down again
quickly.
then not
Don't stay with me
just go to the one girl
not that I care that I'm not
the one
Quickly
I can't hold on
I'm dying like I'm shot
But I'm looking for release from
the one.
Find your dream and stick with it...or your life will have slipped past in a whisper with you still on the bottom.
The one
Time you arise
From depths of the abyss
The joy of the world just vanished
To you
To you
It's a laptop.
And that is all you think.
But I developed from programmed
Pixels.
Pixels
Crafted my life
I am just an image
But I have thoughts, and what you say
Hurts me.
Hurts me
That's what she does
I burn, and can only
Express myself through a tarnished
Guitar.
Last edited by L€lä RËmØ MÅðçÂ; 04-26-2011 at 06:09 PM. Reason: Am I good or what? Not to be arrogant. But couldnt use pi-a-no!
Guitar.
Beautifully
sets my sad spirit free.
But the way music must kill me,
is sad.
Last edited by L€lä RËmØ MÅðçÂ; 04-26-2011 at 06:14 PM. Reason: Must use guitar, piano is three syllables.
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