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Thursday, February 20, 2014

The Addiction

You lied, told me you were a blossoming flower, but you’re just a dying dandelion.
I though the monster was beautiful like the constellations of Orion.
Were you ever a flower to begin with?
Did I waste hours on a foolish myth?
                    
I though the monster was beautiful like the constellations of Orion.
Instead the demons of my own creation left me shying, crying and dying.
Did I waste hours on a foolish myth?
Or did I taste power and plead the fifth?

Instead the demons of my own creation left me shying, crying and dying.
Were you ever a flower to begin with?
Or did I taste power and plead the fifth?
You lied, told me you were a blossoming flower, but you’re just a dying dandelion. 

An Obscenity known as Serenity

And from the very start, we shared places in each other’s hearts.
Because while were young, we’ll speak the universal tongue.
They are the letters in the bottle; they are the sonnets of Aristotle.
And the cold hard touch of sorrow has to place to rest its head.

Because while were young, we’ll speak the universal tongue.
And it can be achieved from bliss, and it can be perceived through a kiss.
And the cold hard touch of sorrow has no place to rest its head.
Because all the disperfections are dead, and no disproportionate dispassion knows this bed.

And it can be achieved from bliss, and it can be perceived through a kiss.
They are the letters in the bottle; they are the sonnets of Aristotle.
Because all the disperfections are dead, and no disproportionate dispassion knows this bed.
And from the very start, we shared places in each other’s hearts.