| May 21st, 2004 |
| December 28th, 2006 9:52AM |
Member Stats
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Friends List |
| last 20 friends to log in: |
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| Real Name: | private |
| Email: | private |
| Location: | private |
| Occupation: | Guitarist and Writer |
| Age: | private |
| Gender: | Male |
| Platforms Owned |
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| Interests: |
beware.
confess. |
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| Biography: |
It's the changing of the guards, straight from mailbox to alarms. And the kitty cats did scream, oh, how they howled behind the house. And the big one's laying in the frying pan, talk around the town is you've been listening. You cover it up just as fast as you can cause you're trying to keep it from growing and getting big. They will all be heirs to their own thrones and old homes. Without a downtown to grow old in or a son to telephone. And either side of paper is erupting a snake, you're pulling trains to Oakland in the pouring rain. Well, every drop will count when they tally it up, and you always learned a lot from the deep end of faith. The kids were pushing their fingers through tarmac on pavement the lightning was breathing in faces. And either side of paper is erupting a snake, you're pulling trains to Oakland in the pouring rain. Well, every drop will count when they tally it up, and you always learned a lot on the deep end of faith. And you worry yourself sick. And you worry yourself sick. But today won't...
Right smack dab in the middle. This is a poem. A combination of a sentence, broken up to form a rhythm. Right smack dab in the middle. You are a poem. Little pieces of my senses, broken up to form an image. Take her down to the river, she would step right over the water. And if you take him on down to that goddamn river, he would drag you straight down to the bottom... |
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