Location:
Standing in the courtyard...
Arriving at a quaint old little village,
On the outer perimeter of a large town...
My own dark little world,
nothing really happens here...
Looking through his tears
the falling of feathers he hears...
Last night i cried
i cried so much i started drowning in my tears...
Reaching this deprived city,
On the outskirts I stand...
Salty taste of blood
Flowing through your lips...
Im the one setting in the back of the bus
Im the one who never says a word...
Dreams are good,
dreams are bad...
With nice little twist,
I slit my wrist...
With special paint and brush.
a wound could be closed shut...
It started as a dream
And ended as a nightmare...