These people don’t seem to think to the normal extent – boisterous barbaric behaviour pent up like no-one’s known
Prone disasters amidst unnatural curiosity tremendously against any such will that shall and can indeed tend to having them
All shook up with no real place to go – when manic turns itself to panic to catastrophic re-occurrence
Just Must Cease To Release, soon as cliché genius lends them an over-productive, under-utilised ear only to tease everything to the agonised pit of its unwilling being
The ups are magical, these more oft than not downs coated by unbreakable tragedy – she has failed to catch a breath going on twenty years now yet, still, somehow, anyhow quivering to stand remarkably here
She’s been meaning to amount to nothing because, rest-assured, even that will have to do right now
Next to nothing means less than everything when bear-gripped akin to crazy – she’s tasted the pain and these are her very own personalised mental prison sentences of wrongfully convicted sorts
They really Ought To Find A Key
When an angel got taken and left us with a million memories of inspiration x