Litkicks Message Board Archive
Manic/Passionate (murder, sex and free crime)
Here inside my simple head, the drugs and yes-men go to bed and Devil's Morning it was said the tears inside my eyes were dead. Mourning the lost souls of the countess in her beauty slumber, and picking faces from within a solid space of time. Tell the corpses you came and saw and looked into my eyes and bled and cried on a summer eveing windy blood across your pink fingers and you go to bed and we have a solid dream. We plucked and deciphered our smiles from the air and danced in blood, and melodious sounds. The man behind the wall had seen his life through my looking glass and wondered where he'd been... Dying, cursing, lies; falling deep into the burning abyss of multiculturalism. We wallowed in the beauty and remnants of our hungry copulation, and we were desparate and mad... Insane with night wails of pleasure and pain. All the simple lust that creates us over and over again everyday in quiet spaces of reason. And pardon the bleeding tyrant day, screaming, screaming "FEED THE VOID!". Finding all the lost insanities of the picked up and mangled ideology. Meditate and breathe between your lover's legs, a dew wet jungle of No and Maybe, Sometimes and I'll think on it. Frightened under a murdering table, frightend of the wayward masses. And then we fade into blooming flowers and peyote to sing us serial killer lullabies. No brams to save our souls or even bequeath a reason to burn salvation in the face of danger, total stranger, lone ranger. Say yes! To your doom beneath the moon inside the snow we always go. Say Yes! we crooned! We made you swoon in the back of your mind,
space, loads of time. Archetypal ryhme, blood stains, dirt and grime. Murder sex and free crime. The End!!