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One of those nightsIt's one of those nights were my eyes won't close,
were tears keep dripping down my nose.
It's one of those nights were everything's wrong but I can't explain why,
When the light burns out all I'm left to do is cry.
It's one of those nights were I panic at the slightest sound,
Were under the air I feel like I'm drowned.
It's one of those nights were I can't seem to breathe,
Were I choke and I heave, I just want to leave.
It's one of those nights were I can't stop thinking,
I'm slowly falling, I'm drowning, I'm sinking.
It's one of those nights were there are no lights in the sky,
Were I feel grounded when I just want to fly.
It's one of those nights were everything comes back,
All the dark thoughts that shroud your mind in black.
It's one of those nights were I'm too scared to dream,
For once it's ends, I'll wake up, and scream.
The fame gameShy and quiet, is what you are,
Yet is see you dreaming to be a star.
Basking under that radiant spotlight,
Smiling as your lips gently dust the mic.
I see you glow as your passion flares,
You melt all fears, you have no cares.
But tell me now as your growing strong,
Never missing a note in each and every song.
Was it really necessary to change your name,
Will it really gain you fame?
They told you that your own wasn't cool or acquit
But your stage name doesn't really seem to fit.
The wig and make up are a good gimmick
But for you I don't really think your with it
I'll admit I'm happy for you,
But as far as personalities go I think you have two.
The fame monster seems to be growing inside
You can run but you can't hide.
And the fact that your acting like you're hot shit
You're getting there, but you're not quite it.
Watch this space.
To late I've seen enough.
Can't be savedBound by pain, torn inside
Worrying feelings are coming alive.
A storm is forming inside my heart
I can't breathe, I'm falling apart.
"Come help me" I scream as I fall from the sky
You reach out to catch me, then wave goodbye.
I can hear your laughter ringing in my ears
I can hear the demons whispering my fears.
I try to call out, in a desperate plea
But I know you can't save me.
I want to go back, to change it all
It's all to late I've started to fall.
I never even said farewell,
As I fall to the gates of hell.
I cursed myself, for that is true
There's so much more I wish you knew.
The song of the Magpie One for sorrow, two for joy.
What once was joyful, is now just sorrow.
The bitter taste of today, is stale for tomorrow.
A heavy drowse of a now distant past,
Faded memories, of passings so fast.
Three for a girl, four for a boy.
There once was a girl who fell in love,
Who had a heart as pure as a soaring dove.
She met a boy with a heart of gold,
Hard, metallic and awfully cold.
Five for silver, six for gold.
She was promised silver, diamonds and stones,
Yet all she received was brass, ash and bones.
She found the gold, in the best of others.
Giving love and strength to her sisters and brothers.
Seven for a secret never to be told.
Lies were formed and secrets kept
Serpents whispered while she slept.
She let nothing bother her, had struggles a few.
Though legend says for joy, you must see two.
The kissIt starts off slow, with a light brush of my face
Pulling me close in a warm embrace
Your hands on my waist as you pull me on top
Up on your lap is were I hop
I look deep into your shining eyes
As both your hands caress my thighs
I lean forward and you lean in
And this is were the kiss begins
Soft and gentle as you find your pace
My little heart starts to race
A fiery passion starts to grow
And there's no signs of this beginning to slow
Kissing harder now, discovering your lips
With your hands resting on my hips
Stopping only for the need of air
I run my fingers through your hair
No more scars that I have to bare
They fade away as if never there
I began to writeI began to write a verse filled with spite, filled with anger and utter betrayal.
I began to write how I was truly hurt and all the wrongs that had been done to me.
I began to write to protest on everything you had done, to shame you, to blame you.
But as I began to write I seen that nothing worked, that I had filled the page with a vile and hateful verse.
I had seen that what I had began to write was the beginning of a fight, a beginning of a war that would only hurt both sides.
So instead if fighting fire with fire, I extinguished the flame, and made a white flag for my soul.
I took a step back from my fiery attack.
And I began to write this.
Take a walk with me.To the end we shall go, were ever it may be,
Take me down the path less travelled, walk me through the sea.
The broken glass of crackled hearts, were bare feet may tread,
Along side the river of the dammed, the water coloured red.
Hollow bones and bullet holes litter the sandy plain,
Dried blood is the mark that only death may reign.
Yet here we stand in fire and smoke,
Drowning in it's gentle choke.
and off I'll sail.
To a valley of eternal bliss.
My WingsMoving on to better things, I'm so happy I found my wings
No need for tears, no sinking fears.
A burning passion comes in roaring fashion.
A smile I bear, free without a care.
No broken hearts, or scaring marks.
I'm moving on to better things, no more rocks upon my wings.
Teacher's pet peeve.You loathe me, you really do,
I know my presence just bothers you.
Those evil glares and little digs,
All those things to make you big.
You can poke and you can prod,
Then preach your words about your god.
You can act the little saint,
But that's something you just ain't.
You can pretend that I'm not there,
And then act like you treat us fair.
Questions of a wider scope,
Get a "no further questions" and a bible quote.
Crow like demeanour you wallow in pride,
No pity you offer, as you throw the carcass aside.
That burning hatred of me, you truly despise,
That roaring fire in your eyes.
Now tell me Miss, as it's clear to see,
Why do you really hate me?
ClockThe grandfather clock's face turned down, sad. There must have been a bad moon. Time is an unhappy business, abstract, misunderstood. The clock had stood in the same spot for 200 turns around the Sun. And it never became more fun, than it had ever been. Clock remembered the families, the parents, the children, and also the childless, the unmarried, the loveless singles. He was good at remembering; it's what he was for. Happy times and sad times. Times. Time. What a sad business.
Lancelot Price 2014 July 26
Old Thoughts from New PeopleThere's sunlight on the empty road, but he supposes there isn't much to it, really: photons generated in the explosion of nuclear fusion, suddenly flying, an accident of fate to land here, at this moment, where his eyes had evolved to pick it up as visible light. It isn't fake, exactly, but that didn't mean it was real. He didn't think it meant much of anything.
He walked along the solid yellow line on the highway, occasionally putting his arms out as if he were balancing on something precarious, embracing a childlike desire to pretend that the world around him was more than it appeared to be.
He wore a jacket despite the summer air, and his poorly cut, short black hair stuck up in an unmanicured parody of the magazines that stuck out of the bag that hung off his shoulders. He seemed at peace with things, with the silence, with the sun. The road stretched on ahead and it stretched back, but for him, it may as well have not been there. He could have been walking into the ocean. It didn'
To Bruges You know, my mother always told me that I should learn how to play their game, how to just fit in. Not one of my strong suits, I always preferred to stand out. But in this I desired isolation, of sorts; I wanted to exist on the top of a staggered rock formation looming from the seething sea, I wanted to stand there and watch the sky swirl and devour the sun, I wanted to exist in an eye of a storm. It didn’t matter what storm, just a storm, so that, if I am bothered enough, I could eject myself from my momentary haven and out into the insanity of life. I snapped my head back into focus, the stairs, right.
With heavy feet and uneven gate, I managed my way up the spiraling steps, the pulsing red hue of crisis lights swallowing my face in crimson. My hair matted against the pounding rain, lungs aching from the trek, finally I found myself face to face with my door, a little slit of darkness from the peep-hole, the fading 315 hung s
Sermon"Tell me about why God's real, and I'll tell you why you're wrong."
When I heard that, I winced, not sure how to respond. I'm devout about my faith, if not vocal - I won't talk about it unless asked, but this was a question I felt needed to be answered - and yes, it was a question.
I wasn't sure at first how to respond, but after a while, I came up with this to say:
"Alright, so let me tell you a parable about you. Things in your life go south after we talk - maybe right away, maybe it takes time, but one thing leads to another, and when you wake up one morning, you can't pay your credit bill. You go into debt, so on, and a few months later, you're out of a house, which means you're also out of a job. Things get worse - you get desperate. You need cash, so you try to boost a car. The owner walks out, and you never meant for anyone to get hurt, but sometimes these things just happen: now you're a murderer. Grand Theft Auto, charged as an adult; let's be frank - you're going to jail for
Genetic Ownership"James was more than a good husband and good father, he was a good man…" Jacqueline said as she stood in front of the small crowd all dressed in black. Her smile was serene and empty, as was the smile on everyone's faces. Everyone's, that is, except for the young woman's in the front row. The black veil she had one could not hide the pain, the fear, the fits of sobbing that made everyone nervous.
"Sara, shhh! You can't let them hear you!" said the boy next to her in a hoarse whisper.
"I know…" she whispered back. "I… can't help it!" She shrank back and leaned into the boy.
At the pulpit, Jacqueline continued. "I was so proud of my husband when he spearheaded the Epigenetic Futures initiative, which has changed our world, our way of life." She looked down at her children with that same serene smile, despite the fact that her daughter continued to sob.
In the back of the church, one of the large doors opened just eno
Twilite SnippetBetween us grew a topical understanding of wavering normalcy and its weight in our minds became a steady thread slipped through a shivering needle and shoved unceremoniously through an existence as soft as burlap. Those patterns so similar they turned polarized. Those minds so alike they reflected antitheses. Washed in a sameness full of discomfort as startling as a slightly too-warm pool grown green with algae.
“You’re farther from existing than ever you’ve been!” She pummeled the words like origami swans against a rain-slicked umbrella. I, less acrobatic and feeling jovial, numbed my tongue with dirty slush.
Claustrophobia encroached, ever so tenderly, leaving no space for air for the walls were vacuumed against us. Other patrons pressed frightened away, clawing to separate our molten bodies.
Shadow MomentsMy most vivid memory of Rose is that of her weeping in the dark next to me as we stood at the top of the hill and looked down upon the Gangrel gathered below. They were there holding a memorial for Arminius who had died in the fight in Tracy. The Gangrel had each other, but Rose and I stood alone atop the hill, with only each other to temper what grief we felt at the loss.
She held my hand and wept her blood tears for her friend without shame or timidity. She was so honest in her grief that it made me feel an intruder even though her grip on my hand loudly vouchsafed my welcome and invitation to the private intimacy of her emotion.
As it was a funeral, my veil was down. Thus, I looked at her through a semi opaque haze of black and it made her tears appear as living shadows of grief that slithered and crawled down her cheeks instead of falling. I remember looking at the Gangrel below us and seeing their heads bowed in what they were calling respect, but looked from my angle to be the sa
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