Friday, November 10, 2006

don't blame me if i haven't fucking come yet

it’s my turn to finish the whiskey
and the butt of that smoke as well
i’m tired of walking in your muddy footprints
through your personalized idea of hell

your face is swollen
where my fists left their kisses
just like the marks on this heart
and the blood on those broken dishes

you claim to hold jeasus
somewhere in your heart
well i never claim to be
something I’m not

you own nothing
you selfish fucking child
your life is empty
like the space behind your eyelids

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