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ge0metry's Journal
Created on 2005-02-01 05:58:13 (#5977473), last updated 2005-02-05
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Basic Info| Name: | ge0metry |
|---|
BioFeel like every chance to leave
is another chance I should have took.
Every minute is a mile.
I've never felt so hollow.
I'm an old abandoned church with broken pews
and empty aisles.
My secrets for a buck.
Watch me as I cut myself wide open
on this stage. Yes, I am paid
to spill my guts.
If looks could really kill,
then my profession would be staring.
Please know we do this cause we care
and not for the thrill.
left all my kinder parts rusting and peeling
that guy was complaining as he looked at the ceiling
my nose isn't that big it looks nothing like me
we're all doctors trading sadness for numbness
grass looks much greener but it's green-painted cement
the mayor's machines are there cleaning the pavement
you can't make dirt clean so we'll just lemon-scent it
Tonight, they're burning the roads they built to lead us to the light.
And blinding our hearts with their shining lies,
while closing our caskets cold and tight. But I'm dying to live.
Pacific sun, you should have warned us, these heights are dizzying,
and the climb can kill you long before the fall.
And our trails go unmarked and unmapped and covered
just as soon as they are crossed.
how we've shouted, how we've screamed,
take notice, take interest, take me with you.
is another chance I should have took.
Every minute is a mile.
I've never felt so hollow.
I'm an old abandoned church with broken pews
and empty aisles.
My secrets for a buck.
Watch me as I cut myself wide open
on this stage. Yes, I am paid
to spill my guts.
If looks could really kill,
then my profession would be staring.
Please know we do this cause we care
and not for the thrill.
left all my kinder parts rusting and peeling
that guy was complaining as he looked at the ceiling
my nose isn't that big it looks nothing like me
we're all doctors trading sadness for numbness
grass looks much greener but it's green-painted cement
the mayor's machines are there cleaning the pavement
you can't make dirt clean so we'll just lemon-scent it
Tonight, they're burning the roads they built to lead us to the light.
And blinding our hearts with their shining lies,
while closing our caskets cold and tight. But I'm dying to live.
Pacific sun, you should have warned us, these heights are dizzying,
and the climb can kill you long before the fall.
And our trails go unmarked and unmapped and covered
just as soon as they are crossed.
how we've shouted, how we've screamed,
take notice, take interest, take me with you.
ConnectExternal Services:
 | ge0metry@livejournal.com |
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