Saturday, September 11, 2010

Your Brother, Your Lamb

i love yr fucking anger
yr rhythm and yr style
yr talentless, immobile bliss
i'll make it worth yr while

my hunger and my youth
for lust and worthless men
makes me, breaks me, then it wakes me
time and time again

i wake in empty beds
u sleep in empty streets
yr mother, lover just discovered
the ever fuckd elites

im craving endless sound;
in and out these waves.
my view askew, im sure u knew
how/why he acts/behaves

my temper has a number
yr lucid as a germ
yr time my dear, i fear, u fear
will flee if u hold firm

so dont u shun my fate
my ever-present wrath
preferred unheard that dirty word
i fucked on yr behalf

No comments:

Post a Comment