Lost inside, she searches within
The perfect bride tall, blonde and thin...

Flaming trees of golds and reds
Align the skies once more...

Delusion, fiasco,
From feathered cup...

If I wrote a suicide note,
It would probably be like this...

Blue is the cold,
the breeze...

I spit up Angina,
I smile the plague...

Dreams,
Lie scattered...

The end is near,
oh foolish foal...

Timmy was a good boy
Brushed his teeth...

A chill runs down her spine as she sits waiting in...
Her eyes dart around - suspicious of every...

Blunt knives cut,
A dead plant seeds...

Terror embellished,
Eternal scorn...