Nothing, nothing makes her smile.
Promise of your little hugs.

There is no penitence for trust, the most naive of sins.
Bruised into neglect, her body a fortunate gift.
She said Im sorry but remittance bears no

Nothing, nothing makes her smile.
Promise of your little

She'll sleep on the stars
under the burning tails of comets
Her eyes fused to my own
Through blur of ashened skin
Words tore right through my heart
Glass words bled a shooting star
Her ashes back to the earth
Like waves braking on the rocks

Light the sky with yo

Take, look, touch as you please,
My history is dead, youll follow me into my disease

My friends are socialists and dancers,
I have decorated my body,
With tattoos connecting me to,
Endemic peoples
What you live through they claim to their own land at price,
But it

My house of shards of glass,
'Til I can find you!
Nails drag across the skin,
Her childhood torn from her
Gone with her hymen.
All these words are supposed to be,
Where I can find you.
Her saviour H.I.V.,
Provides escape from here.
Still I cant see you!

Blood on red snow
Frost bitten lips plant a kiss on his weak and broken lungs,
Bled in the name of a flag,
Bled for the sake of false faith, and she wonders aloud,
what are my sins in this world?

With broken hearts we say goodbye to those we knew in life. Soon you too wi