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Homicidal MoodOnce there was a girl
So happy and so young
She was a dumb pig
She loved pink
And other girly things
She shouted at a girl
The dark girl who loved to draw
They always wanted to let her drown
The girl who hated the world
They always shouted at her
But before the girl could say a word
She fel on her knees
Then in the dirt
The dark girl got a knife in her hand
The other was hit in the heart
,,Aim for the head,'' The dark girl said
Then hit her again,
in her head
The girl then walked away
Please help me..Please help my broken soul
Without you I'm nothing at all
Please help me not to fall
Or I'll suffer in pain, or I'll crawl
Suicide Killing TimeYears and years passed by
I was suffering in pain
But now I feel it's time
Suicide killing time
Sitting in my room
Watching myself bleeding
The room is getting darker
When time passes by
I wake up confused
I see bloodfuses
I'm laying in a hospitalbed
You motherfucker brought help...
(Don't cry, don't cry
I will be fine
Don't cry, don't cry
It will be better if I die.)
NumbYears passed by
I'm growing cold
I won't feel anything at all
Though you hit me with 1000 volt.
Days passed by
I'm feeling numb
I can't love anyone
It feels so dumb
Times before I was born
I knew I would waste my life
I always am like that
That's how I got down
The Pretending TreeAll alone under the pretending tree
Watching a rain of blood
Wondering when the time will come
That I'll cut free
The Fall ChildrenWe're rejected to the end of the world
We don't care
We only need one word;
We're the Fall Children...
The Terror Of HeavenYou always thought that heaven
would be the best thing you would see
It would be like the stars
Sparkling in the night
Like the gorgeous sun
Who gave her light to the moon
Years of thinking that passed by
And then finally you died
Suddenly slimey tentacles ripped you from the ground
Swallowing you in the air of a never healing wound
,,This can't be my place to be!" you screamed scared to death. ,,This must be the 6th grade of hell!"
I fear my dear.." someone said understanding your fear. ,,That this is the place you NEVER wanted to fear."
,,I want to go!" you screamed almost in tears. ,,Too late." a voice said in your head. ,,Your new home is here.."
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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