Friday, July 16, 2010
You Called It Love, I Called It A Massacre
True love made trash
All those pretty and useless words
Their future flows as a river of failure
Man made
They hope for the calm that only comes
After the violence
After the separation
On Sunday morning I heard your voice singing from prison
Bending blue shadows
But none of this matters now
Face down at the bottom of the sea
In endless protest to you absence
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