Blossoms fire

Blossoms fire
burn for youth
red orange ribbons
bundled roots
everything in porcelain
the fire starts
where petals begin
pollen spreads
the flames are thin
blossoms breathe
once again

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The music

Lead the band
march to death
watch it come,
don’t fight.
Run from nothing
stand your ground
frozen feet
make mother proud
keep your fear
on your sleeve
the ground you stand
is where you bleed.
Lead the band
march to death
you will remember
when you wept.

What the devil gets

I don’t respond to violence
with terror or with fear
I will not submit to evil
no the devil gets no ear
I don’t run from darkness
even when I am afraid
I will not be forced out
I will always remain
for evil doesn’t win here
and neither do your wants
I control where I go
and I never want to stop
I won’t submit to terror
to bombs, or to your guns
I don’t choose to run
when the devil comes
with everything I bleed
I fight for what is mine
the devil may have his day
but I still have my pride.

Run, baby, run

I’ll show you crazy
I’ll show you over it
I’ll show you so gone
that you’ll be crying
I’ve got that sexy psycho
the kind that’s hard to let go
I’ll show you mayhem
I’ll break it down so fast
It’s like a wild ride
going so slow
we driving wild
catching every red
the truth is crazy
when it’s really said
I’ll give you demons
and wet dreams
I’ll make you feel
like you hate me
and in the end
it’s all for fun
I’ll show you crazy bitch
just to see you run

Merry Christmas

Inspire me
with Christmas meaning
tell me I can give it freely
remind me that my bitterness
is only strong if I give in
remember what a miracle means
love yourself and chase your dreams
child like oh so it seems
but then again we decorate trees
remember that your life has cost
the wrapping of the present often lost
but here it comes oh once again
can we relive what has been
take us back to inspiration
love the season for what it’s have us

Candy shop

Lollipops and cutters
dressed in white to smother
the symptoms of the others
falling down
tripping from the candy coated clouds
drinking all molasses as it drowns
choking down the sweet that doesn’t come
the tasty drink that promises the fun
the liquid that replaces all the suds
bubbles popping in the blood
rainbow floss and wedding bells
dirty laundry and sugar melt
everything in technicolor
cutting veins and eating suckers

The clock tower

The tragedy of growth
is taken under oath
the liability
of gardening the weeds
plucking all the roses
killing time of soldiers
breaking all the watches
make sure that they’re stopping
dropping from the rooftops
the melody is ruthless
toothless and unused if
you can find excuses.

The listening lamb

Doublespeak, devil speak
who the fuck the demons be
you gotta listen, listen well
you know the enemy burns in hell
all the fire don’t turn to ashes
demons lace their beds with glass and
when you look it’s pretty crystal
do you know the myth in visuals
doublespeak yeah the devils word
who’s the sheep eating the verse
do you know where the demons be
or are you following the gilded leaf
everything takes care to hear
demons sing with angel ears
they know exactly what to say
whether it be fear or hope that preys
what you hear do you know what stays
doublespeak like devils do
the words are lies you thought were true

Left of us

Burn away the suffocation
placate scars with gratification
pleasure the senses-don’t forget
bath in salt and peppermint
keep the aroma fresh and simple
everything clean, red, and traditional
burn away the smell of death
decay of human innocence
burn the petals and the trunk
fill the ashes with what’s left of us

Grief

The pretty are so desperate
desperate for the fear
the tears that fall from broken eyes
the bleed that comes from ears
the gilded are so sad
but also complementary
complementing dust
and rewriting recent history
everything is crystal
the silk is blood and bone
drinking of the marrow
keeps you from growing old
the rich are oh so desperate
desperate for the poor
to fill their boring life up with pain
the pain of wanting more
the pretty are so desperate
like every shiny thing
those considered have gots
lay waste to hope supreme
the wanting of the glutinous
rewriting history
the things that make us restless
also make them grieve.