it's hard to make these letters look as beautiful as you
|
a word too soft, too frail to be uttered
|
or be placed in your dreams
|
|
my blood was an untrusty ink tonight
|
|
with lips and hands that will never meet again
|
please understand that these are the years
|
and i just can't bare to see them wasted
|
|
my blood was an untrusty ink tonight
|
on the back of photographs
|
these words fall short of our last goodbye
|
|
when gold-capped irony
|
brings the pain of light
|
as the seasons change
|
as the seasons change
|
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bottoms up you fuckers
|
this is your last release
|
your libations are undead to me
|
bottoms up you fuckers
|
this is your last release
|
your libations are undead to me
|
|
-----------------
|
Boy Gets What He Wants
|
| Versus The Mirror |
