|
Catalysts/TurningHandles
Keep the knife in the table, first to come first to serve.
When words are bullets we will aerate these paper thin walls.
Keep your voice low, they must not recognize the truth behind shut doors.
We are perfect in their eyes, they must never see the tears we shed.
We become feral when encaged, civil when noticed.
Flowers grow studs when of this tainted seed.
This perfection is publicity,
And oh I will take the regretful to soak in this limelight.
We shall whisper fear into each other as we waltz in perfect step.
The routine is so mundane my sweet.
Intimidate, Accentuate, Recuperate, Reload.
Im sorry my sweet, I thought we were alone.
Last edited by ITRIEDVOODOOONCE; 06-26-2005 at 07:45 PM.
|