11.25.2006
Bags under the blood.
You pussies.
Maybe it was just because I was afraid I'd end up just the same.
Now I stare at my phone.
Message from the desperate. That's me.
Broken beautiful things.
Lets sleep now. The morning will be here soon.
It's not the light, but when you leave without me.
I'm still here.
Building our sickness.
And cure each other.
Maybe it was just because I was afraid I'd end up just the same.
Now I stare at my phone.
Message from the desperate. That's me.
Broken beautiful things.
Lets sleep now. The morning will be here soon.
It's not the light, but when you leave without me.
I'm still here.
Building our sickness.
And cure each other.
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