Lyrical

Kickin it down dirty in the glow of the velvet rut

This town was poison to her bones
And it Made her weak
She couldn't stand to walk
She couldn't run from her deamons
All she could do was to lay down and sleep, forever.

Baptismal not of fire, but of liquor and needles

Makes you lust for what you never wanted.

Lonlyness is souls that it feeds upon
You better be strong, you better not lie, she can smell that fear, and
knows what's inside.

I wanted so much more out of life,
A life with meaning.
It never works out how you want.
all I'm left with is the bottom of this plastic cup.

Just a collection of things I've been harboring for a while. Thought it
might do better here, than carrying them with me.