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The least you could do is pour me some fancy, rich-people scotch - But in all the chaos there is calculation
16 October 2013 @ 08:41 pm
But in all the chaos there is calculation
  | I could never beat it when you needed me the most The more I try the less you try to come How could I live like that How could I live like that Take it as a self indication Take it as your own means of vindication If I could take it all If I could take it all back Nothing is forgiven unless you want it to be And if it’s too late for deciding Oh just leave it to me Stay with me Stay with me Stay with me Stay with me Stay with me please Cause I’m living, living Living in the darkness |
Edited 2013-10-18 02:40 pm (UTC)
 | Her dirty paws and furry coat, She ran down the forest slope. The forest of talking trees, They used to sing about the birds and the bees. The bees had declared a war, The sky wasn't big enough for them all. The birds, they got help from below, From dirty paws and the creatures of snow. And for a while things were cold, They were scared down in their holes. The forest that once was green Was colored black by those killing machines. But she and her furry friends Took down the queen bee and her men. And that's how the story goes, The story of the beast with those four dirty paws. |
Edited 2013-10-25 09:35 pm (UTC)
 | They say that home is where the heart is I guess I haven't found my home And we keep driving round in circles Afraid to call this place our own And are we there yet? They say there's linings made of silver Folded inside each raining cloud Well, we need someone to deliver Our silver lining now And are we there yet? And are we there yet? And are we there yet? Home, home, home |
Edited 2013-11-01 12:43 am (UTC)
 | Playing with fire You know you're gonna hurt somebody tonight And you're out on the wire You know you're playing with fire Perhaps this calling is the channel of invention I will not blush if others see it as a crime However dangerous the road, however distant These things won't compromise the will of the design Ten thousand demons hammer down with every footstep Ten thousand angels rush the wind against my back This church of mine may not be recognised by steeple But that doesn't mean that I will walk without a God Rolling River of Truth, can you spare me a sip? The Holy fountain of youth has been reduced to a drip I've got this burning belief in salvation and love This notion may be naive, but when push comes to shove I will till this ground |
 | Dig up her bones but leave the soul alone Boy with a broken soul Heart with a gaping hole Dark twisted fantasy turned to reality Kissing death and losing my breath Midnight hours cobble street passages Forgotten savages, forgotten savages Dig up her bones but leave the soul alone Let her find a way to a better place Broken dreams and silent screams Empty churches with soulless curses We found a way to escape the day Dig up her bones but leave the soul alone Lost in the pages of self made cages Life slips away and the ghosts come to play These are hard times These are hard times for dreamers And love lost believers |