Monday, March 16, 2009

Mourn- Timy Plurrazzelo

The bullets burned through his chest
they wiped the the tears that he wept
his words went black
his thoughts have gone cold
and now my eyes leak over your grave
they've turned the dirt to mud
I carved in my name
you always had my back
like heroes on t.v.
and when I said that I would change
my promises grew old on my list of things
my tangled thoughts knot up
and I can't conjure the words
the things that I want to say

But the blood it boils in my arms
the crooked crown atop the crumbling king
the orange ashes cross your tumbling eyes
all of the worship and the sanctity
have turned to wishes in your humble paws
they've blown to ribbons through the golden gates
mow every minutes scratching at your face
your so conceded in this endless race
this time I have gone too far
my tinsel tongues strung to hard.

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