holy moly

Aug 22, 2007 03:24

Got attitude like a manequin, and grace like a disaster.
Im laying belly down with my back on fire and my eyes in denial.
Your words float like the air I cant inhale. Modesty kills.
Fuck Jesus and his God, piss on their army-esque cult death trap.
Eyes so big, I see the my world in them. Color so vibrant, I feel euphoric.
Phone calls calling me, ringing with vagrant disposition.
No maverick nor fox could interpret your analyzation of me. Choose a side.
You got talent kid, but you are still a number two. Thats your niche.
I wont sell my soul to fill my belly, but yours is a different matter.
Water under the bridge, but pissed in none the less.

Lets play nice.
Wrap up your soul, cus my hearts about to get cold.
A shotgun verbal assault to keep you on your toes.
A thimble full of hateful bliss to wash away your woes.
Deposit some of the years of life you wish you had.
Living lies capitolize, making humble mad.
Shed those tears to line your pockets, its all you really have.
Crying wolf and burning books, but your motives are just sad.

My word.
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