DeadReligion
03-09-2006, 08:10 PM
1,000 posts!!!!!!!!! For some reason, that makes me happy, anyway, this probably isn't my best. And for those of you who owe me crits (probably like...10-20 people by now) crit this.
Nails And Chalkboards
The world is scraping at my door, like nail against chalkboard.
This microphone is feeding back in my ears.
The war of me crushes like a boot on my old human face.
I’ve got an aspirin aspiration, for a super suicide.
Soul serenity is what I crave, an answer, a solution.
Tranquility; like those soft waves landing on welcoming sand.
But saviors seem too often to be crucified and destroyed.
Try to overcome human nature; greed, homicide, arrogance, bigotry,
It’s like a dying ant attempting to life a boulder from his deformed body.
Rape victims rapping on the door of my apartment,
And ghosts of disease and murder wait in my bedroom.
The corrupt force me to deal with their idiotic banter,
All the while the world suffers through freezing winter;
The second coming of the ice age.
The poverty-stricken throw pebbles at my window,
And ask if I could spare some change. So I toss down a fifty.
We’ve got to clean up this ****ing mess. This ****ing blood-soaked mess.
I can’t do it myself, I’m not strong enough, I confess.
Nails And Chalkboards
The world is scraping at my door, like nail against chalkboard.
This microphone is feeding back in my ears.
The war of me crushes like a boot on my old human face.
I’ve got an aspirin aspiration, for a super suicide.
Soul serenity is what I crave, an answer, a solution.
Tranquility; like those soft waves landing on welcoming sand.
But saviors seem too often to be crucified and destroyed.
Try to overcome human nature; greed, homicide, arrogance, bigotry,
It’s like a dying ant attempting to life a boulder from his deformed body.
Rape victims rapping on the door of my apartment,
And ghosts of disease and murder wait in my bedroom.
The corrupt force me to deal with their idiotic banter,
All the while the world suffers through freezing winter;
The second coming of the ice age.
The poverty-stricken throw pebbles at my window,
And ask if I could spare some change. So I toss down a fifty.
We’ve got to clean up this ****ing mess. This ****ing blood-soaked mess.
I can’t do it myself, I’m not strong enough, I confess.