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Jul 2013
A cold room for puddles of blood,
Yes its true,
My conscience is slowly dripping down my fingertips,
Can you see me becoming the monsters that grow teeth over us?
Listen,
Just listen,
Wolf Queen,
You know I can't give my hands to you,
Matchstick man,
How long will I have to burn away my roots?
How long do we have to burn?
The self destructive gene...
Ashes-
I have no hands to catch the ashes
You know I loved the sound of rain more than the sound of my own pulsing blood,

Dreams spill over these days,
I told you,
When I release the spectrum in my chest,
It would absorb the colors of this world,
Hiding from my own face I,
I have become,

Nothing

I sleep with a ghost,
For it cannot be I that has flesh,
A specter for a dying town,
Memories trapped in dusty pictures,
Scattered everywhere here,
I stood still in this place and watched the movements of decay,
Decay into

Nothing

All my colors are bleeding out
All my colors are bleeding out
All my colors are bleeding out
David
Written by
David
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   Hilda, M White, Christine Eglantine, R and tread
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