These secrets I'll bring to you. Are of thorns and ice. . Hush..... Don't tell them nothing, not a word. Hush.... Don't tell them nothing, not a single thing that I've said to you.
I lit my scars in a new cigarette's light. The heart crawls to meet the shock. As the tender steel hits the naked skin. So life has first begun when death wins.
Your lips are like morphine. And your eyes are deceit. The make-up runs down into. The bullet wound in your cheek. . There's a secret I can share now (just don't tell).
Mysterious objects of flight on a voyage. To correct what they have done, what we are doing. Perhaps submerged, living in the inner most. Recesses of the planet -- no choice but.
In the night, in the circle of death. They congregate to hold a feast. There lies a body in the center of the ring. Each human soon becomes a beast. .
Sick and tired of living with this grief. Done with all the sorrow and the pain. Asphyxiated can no longer breathe. Anesthetized until I've gone insane.
Affectation was an early sign of a twisted mind. All virtues had faded away, apprehension made her cold. But warm she was inside, the child within her died.
Via del Campo c' una graziosa. gli occhi grandi color di foglia. tutta notte sta sulla soglia. vende a tutti la stessa rosa.. . Via del Campo c' una bambina.
Villainy has many forms. But none as vile as virtue. The depth of your compassion. Is as shallow as your thoughts. . Villainy has many forms. But none as vile as virtue.
I woke up shaking in a room that I shared with 3 strangers. And it was visiting day. So I walked down the stairs and then into that room. I felt your presence first and then impending doom.
Feeling cold, feeling empty. Set the stage where you want me. And this crowd right before me. Doesn't care that I'm dying. . And the audience stands with their eyes fixed.
It's a deep, red wound, enough to stare. It's a beautiful rose and everyone's aware. You squeeze it tight enough to bleed. But suicide's something we'd rather not mention here.
The dry heads of the young ones. Staring at me await the hour,. Mouths halted mid-scream. Eyes black with death. . A golden lament 'neath each tongue.
Wrecks of vanishing faith. Long lost herd of self-deceitful. Entrapped in pseudo morality. Sanctimonious disciples of blatant hypocrisy. . Sin after sin, you commit.
Who likes to party more than me? Who likes to sniff that coke until they bleed?. There are no sluts on the bus. The herpes on his lips are dripping puss.
(chorus). . vixen , before we. make love to the radio ,vixen before we make love to the radio ,vixen , before we make love to the radio. vixen , baby u can be in my video(=3).
from Unreleased. ............................................... . - words and music by David Wilcox and Cliff Eberhardt. . My fingers tingle. My foot's alseep.
When the sun is rolling. Over the horizon. That I can almost touch it. I reach out my hand for the light. That lets my heart chant. . I have the feeling like being torn apart.
I lay down my head in deepest sorrow. And feel the emptiness of my soul. Nothing is left but your image. A fading picture is my blackened mind. . A black swan dies an it's tears.