Saturday, April 24, 2010


Livet känns som att klättra uppför ett stup. Brant och utan slut.
Tungt att andas. Skrubbade blåslagna knän.
Jag släpper taget, hänger i livlinan och väntar på att någon drar upp mig.

We are like garbage of time
And we are senseless as we dry
Not like your old frigid wine
If we're here we'll make it fine
If it comes out the way we trust
Like a scarred old fatal lust
It's a way to shut it out
Or to see what it's about

We are the hearts of recycled faith
Like ghosts in this united state
Always lost in something great
We'll have to taste it while we wait
Oh mister ruler of the world
You are the worst they/we ever heard
While you persecute your dream
We are sunburned by your gleam

Flow my ashes slowly
Flow my ashes slow

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