El Falso Teclado: Requiem para Kurt y Layne

domingo, 5 de abril de 2009

where are you know?

Sweet little angel you should have run

I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black

Like peanut butter on the brain

one more high to decay me nervous

My twisted passion to be your world

Meat-eating orchids forgive no one just yet

Feed the cat as she spreads all the waste

Now I’m old and bored

You’re personally responsible for…

Sitting on an angry chair

Cut myself on angel hair and baby’s breath

Take my hand before I kill

Angry walls that steal the air

Throw down your umbilical noose

Breathe the lie

All that I want is to play

Broken hymen of your highness

I’m left black

Changing the shape of his face

The air smells like a teen spirit

Shadows dancing everywhere

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