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I admit. I am your utterly disillusioned waste of space. I play the prominent part in a lavish masquerade of all the world's lowly taste. A fiasco in my past state. A ruin in progress. A vision of demise when tomorrow commences. Sheer disappointment, I caused to thee. Holds back from life, my destiny. Knuckling under the dull moonlight all of my dreams as they lose from sight. It's true, I've been a fool, making lots of awful tunes. Wrapping up mem'ries with shabby rhymes. Hiding under the rubble of my shattered life. I then concede. I ask you all to plead from your many gods forgiveness for a soul who had lost all control. Truly, it was nice to hear a plentiful sorrowful terrible cries. But no matter what goes on in the head of the overthrown, I had to slowly surrender and give up my own disguise; it's a new lease on life. But I hale you all to listen. For my words are sacred til I die. But not when I tell you not to believe when I try to guile. 'Cause while I'm your silver-tongued girl, I am willing to tell more lies. *But words aren't much sacred; never, until you die.*
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Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 5:34 AM UTC
Dissemblance
I admit. I am your utterly disillusioned waste of space. I play the prominent part in a lavish masquerade of all the world's lowly taste. A fiasco in my past state. A ruin in progress. A vision of demise when tomorrow commences. Sheer disappointment, I caused to thee. Holds back from life, my destiny. Knuckling under the dull moonlight all of my dreams as they lose from sight. It's true, I've been a fool, making lots of awful tunes. Wrapping up mem'ries with shabby rhymes. Hiding under the rubble of my shattered life. I then concede. I ask you all to plead from your many gods forgiveness for a soul who had lost all control. Truly, it was nice to hear a plentiful sorrowful terrible cries. But no matter what goes on in the head of the overthrown, I had to slowly surrender and give up my own disguise; it's a new lease on life. But I hale you all to listen. For my words are sacred til I die. But not when I tell you not to believe when I try to guile. 'Cause while I'm your silver-tongued girl, I am willing to tell more lies. *But words aren't much sacred; never, until you die.*
IRISH-BEL
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Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 5:34 AM UTC
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