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A child's eyes peer through frosted windowpanes. Out on the dusty road, amidst the mist
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I could write about your pretty eyes And praise their beauty left and right
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They say that every thought you've had
Has been had by someone before,
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When deepest love abandons you, Betrays you in deepest consequence
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Parody of "Holiday in Cambodia" by Dead Kennedys
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Parody of "Carry on Wayward Son" by Kansas.
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Frozen nerves hang on hair trigger fuses.
Rivulets of anxiety stagger across taut flesh.
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Drunken angels sing from the darkest pits of hell
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A stagnant cloud of gloom and smokey dusk
Hangs heavy, dull and dead above the earth.
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A power unrelenting, pulses
With a rhythmic sort of rhyme.
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It was just after sundown when I heard the camp cook shout
Curse the devil, behold, of all our food we're out
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To go to that tiny little nameless beach now, / Is to take a step back into a vault / Of forgotten childhood memories. / I remember the way very clearly. / First one must start at the place / Where three roads meet.
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(this is just an idea I had, I intend to finish it later. / Wanted to get it out before I forgot it) / Demons implore you / While angels ignore you / And those who fight for you / Deceitful to the core / As
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Vision is slowly spiraling away from me
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A bonded angel, freedom chained, lies broken and alone / Shackled to the earth, tragic beauty entombed. / Cast down and shunned from the he
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Elusive and faint, it lies concealed in all things / From the extraordinary to the extraordinarily simple. / You can see it in the way that light attaches itself / To the delicate curves of a girl in the moon's glo
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When the sun sets on the field of the dead I come, / Lurking in the shadows of crypts, tombs and gravestones. / Ignoring the beat of the ex
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The Norman Baron sat upon his cold, wooden throne, / Death looming at his side, chilling him to the bone. / At his side sat his son, eyes sullen with despair, / As the Baron spoke unto him, "I am dying and you will be h
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One cannot distinguish wrong from right
When one the world in black and white.
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And blood spills forth from the volatile chasms of the eyes
Encasing all the world in a sheathe of thick, furious red.
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Alone in darkness, I hear your screaming.
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If given the choice to damn yourself or destroy your life's acheivements... what would you do?
(Yes this is a screenplay. I have just fi
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Liquid agony pours forth from the pool of sight, And cascades down the soft ivory field.
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Slowly, silently, slipping into
A groaning lethargic stupor of apathetic neglect...
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My goddess lies broken Lock shattered, soul drowning.
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Dead is all that once was, will, or might be When the stark cry of tattered dreams rises from the gutters,
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Darkness... Utterly complete darkness...
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People will always kill, I'm just making it faster
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Pay no attention to preachers Who speak of only one correct path.
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I live the life of a nocturnal voyeur br
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The spectre of death can no longer frighten me
It's cold, unrelenting, skeletal visage holds no terror,
Not for me, not anymore,
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In the darkened land of Valachia
Lived a man named Hector De'Franns.
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