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Array ( [sid] => 76384 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Second First Date [time] => 2004-12-18 18:57:44 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Passed out on these worn out piano keys
Fingers wraped up in these broken guitar strings
Ive got no will to write
And Ive got no strength to sing
Every sylabol is a daunting memory
Of deep heart wounds that wont ever heal
These tears arent eye liner anymore
Theyre real streams flowing to the floor
Mixing with broken glass and shattered dreams
Feeding the flowers, dieing already
I had them picked just for you
Ill pick myself up like nothings wrong
And Ill step outside into the setting sun
The stroll on down this broken lane
My heart skipping beats and my brina gone insane

Then Ill pass the place where we used to walk
And Ill pass the place we used to talk
See your house now empty and cold
Shunning me with its broken windowed grin
Nothing they say can make you leave
Your carved in my mind
And I perfer it that way
So Ill come at last to the end of my road
And know at last my plan in full
Search the barn in each bale of hey
Find the rope where I stored it that day
I step outside in the deeping purple and black
And I know at last I wont turn back
I look up at the sky and what do I see?
You smiling face looking down at me
Ill sling the rope up over the tree
And spit on the ground in my distastefulness
I leave this world with a bitter taste
A scorn and hate for my part in this human race
Slip on the rope and fall to my fate
Flowers clutched in my hand
For our seconf first date







[comments] => 0 [counter] => 458 [topic] => 32 [informant] => socialburnin [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SadPoetry )
Second First Date

Contributed by socialburnin on Saturday, 18th December 2004 @ 06:57:44 PM in AEST
Topic: SadPoetry



Passed out on these worn out piano keys
Fingers wraped up in these broken guitar strings
Ive got no will to write
And Ive got no strength to sing
Every sylabol is a daunting memory
Of deep heart wounds that wont ever heal
These tears arent eye liner anymore
Theyre real streams flowing to the floor
Mixing with broken glass and shattered dreams
Feeding the flowers, dieing already
I had them picked just for you
Ill pick myself up like nothings wrong
And Ill step outside into the setting sun
The stroll on down this broken lane
My heart skipping beats and my brina gone insane

Then Ill pass the place where we used to walk
And Ill pass the place we used to talk
See your house now empty and cold
Shunning me with its broken windowed grin
Nothing they say can make you leave
Your carved in my mind
And I perfer it that way
So Ill come at last to the end of my road
And know at last my plan in full
Search the barn in each bale of hey
Find the rope where I stored it that day
I step outside in the deeping purple and black
And I know at last I wont turn back
I look up at the sky and what do I see?
You smiling face looking down at me
Ill sling the rope up over the tree
And spit on the ground in my distastefulness
I leave this world with a bitter taste
A scorn and hate for my part in this human race
Slip on the rope and fall to my fate
Flowers clutched in my hand
For our seconf first date











Copyright © socialburnin ... [ 2004-12-18 18:57:44]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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