your know your mad, by Loneliness is condescending
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Dear Wendy, Dear Wendy
I find me alone
With emptiness echoing
And a lie to tongue
The math it comes by
I kick my feet and wish it away
Party tomorrow and pray tonight
For the sins we are waiting to bleed
My hands are dyed red with the blood
Of those we have yet to meet
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| Posted: 2006-05-27 21:15:16 UTC |
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| 2006-05-28 03:42:06 | lost the lonely dead |
| reminds me of that young lady i know named _ _ _ _ _ _ yeah, you captured _ _ _ _ _ _ well *thumbs up* |
| 2006-06-07 03:23:14 | Faith |
| hmmmmm... still trying to figure out what my opinion might be... |