By distant moon
Date: 2005 Mar 03
Comment on this Work
[[2005.03.03.22.38.32548]]

It's deceit...

In pieces.  But really, broken, shattered eloquence.
That empty feeling and the taste of metal/indifference.

----
              and I'm
     when you're
                        there's just too much
     and it's deceit...

                         eats at your insides.
                         eats at your insides.
----

In pieces.  No...really, broke and battered assurances.
Those promises we made...and then stabbed them back again.


To use you one more time would be a crime.  But in the absence of faith and rhyme...  I become a beggar, I'm a saint.  Don't you believe I would take your bait.  I'd take your bait.  And I'm such a fake.  I'm such a fake.  

I'll talk to God.  
Talk to God.