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|SepiaFlamingo (profile) wrote, |
on 2-28-2004 at 10:18pm
|Current mood: cold
Music: "Shut your mouth" - Garbage
Subject: She's choking on her toxic of rotting hair and nails, hiding away in the small stairwell below. Do we help her? Do we shelter? The walls whisper no.
|Me, my life is long with reasons few like you. When I go and when I'm gone, I'll understand these things I never knew.
Like dried up leaves turning cold black-
She's one of the fake; the quacks and the riff-raft. ...She's honing her leechcraft.
And by now I've brought myself up, no surprise to mom and dad. It's surgery, but with no knife-She'll make a great leechwife...
Her make-up's too cakey; catholics are pretty shakey. But maybe Candelabra's lighted. Or Satan will be sighted.
Can't anyone see it's all an act? The show was poor, but he still clapped.
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When she's standing next to ledge, casually bump her with your hip. If that isn't strong enough, take a bat and swing.