If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied,
Illuminate the 'no's on their 'vacancy' signs
If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks,
Then I'll follow you into the dark.
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So what if you can see the darker side of me?
Hedonist, headbanger, heathen.
Sapphic, self-sustainable, smart (enough).
Musical, melancholic, me.
Twisted, tempremental,tame.
Determined, decided, disjointed.
Fast, fierce, free.
That's me in a nutshell, if I could fit into one anyway.
Who can tell me what love is?
I wish you could.
Hedonist, headbanger, heathen.
Sapphic, self-sustainable, smart (enough).
Musical, melancholic, me.
Twisted, tempremental,
Determined, decided, disjointed.
Fast, fierce, free.
That's me in a nutshell, if I could fit into one anyway.
Who can tell me what love is?
I wish you could.
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Designer: Trash.co
Basecodes: Detonatedlove
Image: Ohhspontaneityy
Brushes: Moargh, Aethereality
Font: Dafont
Image host: Photobucket
Scripts: Dynamic Drive
i could hardly open my eyes
but i felt so amazed
the heart wasn't where it was supposed to be
if you'd have seen the sunset, you'd have cried
the sun was stretching out its rays
further, wider
it knew something was missing -
that something was you
some people aren't so pretty
but when you look them in the eye
they're trying so hard to hide
that you have to wonder why
it's not a crime to be alone
or to not read anything anyone has written
because for once,
you need to read your own
and what's the point anyway?
people like reading about boys locked under staircases
and cupboards
and unknown places
and dreaming
you can only fight with the wind
when it is sighing
but when it begins to howl -
it wants you to give up trying
but you had her picture on the wall,
and you couldn't knock it down just yet
the truth hurts
and you are the truth
haven't you heard, i love you
some people like the needle in
as fast as it can be done
but for some people like me
we need and want only one
the world's a little right of center
but you tolerate it all
every day swinging about on a centrifugal force
and you tolerate the swinging
and the instability
because it's all you've got
kill love, kill joy, 'til death do us part
refrains of a world you've come to know so well
refrains of your own heart
because it's not a crime to be alive
and there's no time for vengeance
people are all too concerned
with hating
with waiting
... with waiting for the next lie
the sun's hands weren't at all parallel
they were writing
they were writing your name -
the day was dying.
Basecodes: Detonatedlove
Image: Ohhspontaneityy
Brushes: Moargh, Aethereality
Font: Dafont
Image host: Photobucket
Scripts: Dynamic Drive
6:33 PM, Sunday, May 4, 2008
waking up in a dazei could hardly open my eyes
but i felt so amazed
the heart wasn't where it was supposed to be
if you'd have seen the sunset, you'd have cried
the sun was stretching out its rays
further, wider
it knew something was missing -
that something was you
some people aren't so pretty
but when you look them in the eye
they're trying so hard to hide
that you have to wonder why
it's not a crime to be alone
or to not read anything anyone has written
because for once,
you need to read your own
and what's the point anyway?
people like reading about boys locked under staircases
and cupboards
and unknown places
and dreaming
you can only fight with the wind
when it is sighing
but when it begins to howl -
it wants you to give up trying
but you had her picture on the wall,
and you couldn't knock it down just yet
the truth hurts
and you are the truth
haven't you heard, i love you
some people like the needle in
as fast as it can be done
but for some people like me
we need and want only one
the world's a little right of center
but you tolerate it all
every day swinging about on a centrifugal force
and you tolerate the swinging
and the instability
because it's all you've got
kill love, kill joy, 'til death do us part
refrains of a world you've come to know so well
refrains of your own heart
because it's not a crime to be alive
and there's no time for vengeance
people are all too concerned
with hating
with waiting
... with waiting for the next lie
the sun's hands weren't at all parallel
they were writing
they were writing your name -
the day was dying.