paper flowers and cotton candy;
blood ridden faces and wretched beings,
playing harp in the garden of eden.
in the chaos of reality ripping whats left of me;
god and devil becoming one in some cursed flame.
swollen ego's and inflated lungs,
all imaginary runts of some grinding axe;
all the odds laying out in favour of the pain ;
all the hopes and faith have long been gone.
No comments:
Post a Comment