

Working the Graveyard ShiftWorking The Graveyard ShiftWorking the Graveyard Shift
It was a year ago this May When I lost you on that dark day I cried until my face was blue Cause I'm less than nothing without you Desperate to find a shred of my sanity to save It wasn't long before I took a shovel to your grave I think what I'm about to do is a crime But if anything, honey, I think you've gotten better looking over time
I'm feeling a sort of posthumous attraction I honestly wasn't expecting this reaction I never thought I'd belong to this faction... But I'm a necrophiliac! You know it's true! I'm a n


The Truth Comes OutThe Truth Comes Out, Like the Bullet From the Barrel of a GunThe Truth Comes Out
Well I don't wanna call you a slut But I don't have a thesauraus handy And I'm running out of words And it's kind of hard for you to defend yourself With his tongue rammed down your throat I caught you by his bed I don't want your excuses Your hands are red, tonight Now I've had enough Enough
Well I don't wanna call you a drama queen But I'm pretty sure I've seen your crown And you certainly act like royalty Expecting everyone to kneel to you Then you talk shit behind their back


Concerning Separation...Concerning Separation and RegretConcerning Separation...
Growing up we were the best of friends I thought the good time would never end The days were golden and the nights were long I learned how to play the guitar and I wrote you a song But this song was over before it could start I never dreamed that one day we'd grow up and grow so far apart
Under the stars we shared our dreams On the hood of your car we'd vent and scream We talked about how one day we'd get the hell out of this town So when I picked up my brush I'd never have to paint you frown But this painting was over before it co


Deja VoodooMy feet pounded on the pavement, the staccato slap of sneaker against asphalt ringing in my ears ominously, like a bomb rapidly ticking down to an explosion. i was running out of time.Deja Voodoo
The street signs blurred past me as my lungs tore deep, ragged breaths out of the air in a desperate attempt to keep me running. If I stopped, they would catch me. If they caught me, I was dead.
It was dark. I could barely make out the names of the streets that I flew past. I was lost. I could feel my heart beating on my ribcage like a claustrophobe in a closet. I had to get away, but where could I go?
I turned down an unf
xo!
--
an antique arms and armor expert
xo!
--
an antique arms and armor expert
--
All cool things are done by accident.
Except wetting your pants.
:c
--
[Prose|Digital Art|Traditional Art|Photography] [link]
In Soviet Russia, emo cuts you!
xo!
shane
--
an antique arms and armor expert
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