all of the kids, pre-movie, We know how the lights work, / we know where the sound is coming from. / Verse. Chorus. Verse. / I'm sorry. We know how it works. The world is no longer mysterious.
(i apologize in advance for how horrible this is and also how it doesn't really answer the prompt)
Pest remembered reading the Harry Potter books. Well, the first one at least; they were long, those books, and Pest never had a dependable attention span. But there was that line in the first book, the line about Harry being famous before he can walk or talk, being famous for something he can’t even remember, that seemed to snake into Pest’s mind as the days slipped by. It seemed unfair, that Harry got all this fame when he was a baby. That he got all that fame for doing nothing, for simply existing. They had done things, his friends had died, and they were stuck in the blank anonymity of the Block. Time marched on as before. No toasts to what they had accomplished, no mourning for those who’d fallen. Pest could see it in their eyes, as they walked by, heads lowered to avoid the remnants of the teenage gang; they were ignorant. Ignorant of what had happened, what they had done, what had been sacrificed and forged on this ground. Pest
( ... )
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there's a place in the dark where the animals go
you can take off your skin in the cannibal glow
...I know these are MCR lyrics. Don't judge me.
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it's so good
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YES, I am on a Siken kick.
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Pest remembered reading the Harry Potter books. Well, the first one at least; they were long, those books, and Pest never had a dependable attention span. But there was that line in the first book, the line about Harry being famous before he can walk or talk, being famous for something he can’t even remember, that seemed to snake into Pest’s mind as the days slipped by. It seemed unfair, that Harry got all this fame when he was a baby. That he got all that fame for doing nothing, for simply existing. They had done things, his friends had died, and they were stuck in the blank anonymity of the Block. Time marched on as before. No toasts to what they had accomplished, no mourning for those who’d fallen. Pest could see it in their eyes, as they walked by, heads lowered to avoid the remnants of the teenage gang; they were ignorant. Ignorant of what had happened, what they had done, what had been sacrificed and forged on this ground. Pest ( ... )
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my heart
my heart can't
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