It takes a village to stop a bullet, johnny. but you go 'head and stand in front of as many bullets as you want; hell, i might even write a poem about you doing just that. but i shan't pay you. and that is my price.
there, under the rug, like darkness in haste... there between, we perplex... at a civilized pace
[ as we continue to mean nothing ]
until our horrors are in HD
then we make a move on Paradise...
like drunken kangaroos wearing cursed hats
that can never be removed....
storming the gates.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
It takes a village to stop a bullet, johnny. but you go 'head and stand in front of as many bullets as you want; hell, i might even write a poem about you doing just that. but i shan't pay you. and that is my price.
there, under the rug, like darkness in haste... there between, we perplex... at a civilized pace
[ as we continue to mean nothing ]
until our horrors are in HD
then we make a move on Paradise...
like drunken kangaroos wearing cursed hats
that can never be removed....
storming the gates.
Request permission to use this poem