Question Posted Tuesday December 16 2008, 12:37 am
they've got eyes in the back of their heads
watching shifting
the pearls in their mouths that they brush every night
are sprinkled with dirt and grime
the mute rebels that live in drinks and solitude
are always being seen
the sparkling speeches grinning about their hopes
are just their ways of swatting flies.
our large black trucks will carry you away
to the crimson evil wood. like they should.
the men in trench coats standing on the corner
of the gloomy sidewalk
predictability and deja vu
my views on a sheet of paper
the underlying fear in your heart and soul
just won't ever leave you
the food trucks came at twelve noon
so nothing in this world is wrong
stretch your smiles as wide as your fears
let them touch your ears. fake or not, keep it up.
a twig breaks in the middle of the night
there's no light with a new moon.
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