moonbeams

deliciously ruined poor little human crying her eyes out in hurt remnant from great things image of great kings kicked up by wind like the dirt they say who you are is deep down within but i’m right here, can’t you see it’s disgusting one can’t devise the nature of light without all the ugly to shape and define so please don’t blame me if my soul’s a bit dusty moonbeams are just dead skin glowing who we are 's just dead skin going on and on and on again to a place where the night-lights never end moonbeams are just dead skin gleaming who we are 's just dead skin screaming over and over and over again why won't the night-lights ever end? it's funny how the things that are odd creepy and macabre are the things we dare call the face of God if we end up gone for once just be wrong seek beauty in horror you stumble upon write them in poems a lyric of song and throw off the angels by singing along moonbeams are just dead skin glowing who we are 's just dead skin going on and on and on again to a place where the night-lights never end moonbeams are just dead skin gleaming who we are 's just dead skin screaming over and over and over again why won't the night-lights ever end? it's funny how the things that are odd creepy and macabre are the things we dare call the face of God and when all is said everyone is dead so why won’t they call me a moonbeam instead? if i’m a moonbeam and you’re a moonbeam why can’t a moonbeam be the face of God?

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