Lyrics_ Revenge on Murphy: Stay

omg, omg, omg – a site that actualy has lyrics from revenge on Murphy i can learn! GOD, I LOVE YOU GUYS

moreaboutrom

1st verse

When the south clears – against my face,

and I can almost hear –What its trying to say

And somewhere it speaks so sweetly – I lose trace of the moonlight echo in our midst

of the moonlight echo in our midst

Riff

2nd verse:

as we get closer to war per day

all the people believe our troubles will all go away

and I can not lose my conception of where goes my life

But this ground is not stable – so don’t waste my time

I said this ground is not stable – so don’t waste my time

Outro x3

They say believe me now – it will play out, the way it’s meant to play

They say believe me now – it will change –

I wish they were still to make you wait

Riff

 

They say believe me now – it…

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Scented Stills

smells like teen vomit huh? with my great growing feeding spree of literature this days  i came across a rather controversial term – ‘fuck normality’ fuck normality, huh, i though to myself.

 
with moral and cultural margins placed on you by parents and the ever-reaching media I understood exactly what she meant by that statement and deduced: being told you can’t do this and that eventually boils to a brim until you are comfortable with muttering those words when faced with a dilemma of choosing ice-cream over freshly sprung sugar candy for a one nickeled sweet toothed child. or adolescent shouting them, if repeatedly told of what beauty is and your features resemble little of it.
 
Fuck Normality, is no slang there is no climax you’d reach if you were to utter those words, in bed, sweating profusely with your pants relentless around your ankle.
 
And I’m sorry, I’m gong of track now.
 
But fuck normality is a term confined to ones views – this is a truth i’ve been forced to realize as my state of being, i’ve been told and snaily am coming to believe, is my day to day train of thought.
 
a term confined to ones views, that’d lead you to finding friends or if lucky a great friend – amidst friends. who treasure your obscurity when many pretend you don’t exist.
 
Fuck Normality – is a strong term, and in it lies the dream of many who came before and laid in red, cold water baths or dangling on coarse golden ropes. A dream for those carrying the burden of needing appeasement, and a triumph never to be realized through the outside world, lest in yourself.

Do you want to know how E.E. Cummings came about his name?

It was fog crippled autumn when his mothers cramps became unbearable. Crimson 
red and brilliant orange leaves crunched beneath his fathers speeding car. 
Diving to the hospital, praying - their Smart car  does not get swamped with 
sweet water, such was the pedestrian seat - the wet promise of life. Bellowing 
until the shrieking windows caved in, his raw-scented mother poured red on 
baby-blue sheets. His cranky - speeding- father, betrays his personality he 
holds so high: by clutching on to Mariams mary hand. The doctors hands lost in 
the sea of red, turned to ask the cold nurse - have you cum yet? An eerie air of 
confusion - chokes the four corner room to a deaf-mans hearing, a deafening 
silence; "e, e"croaked the infant, before heaven touched his lungs to 
astonishing legibility...'I'm Cumming!' was his first goo goo cry - his father 
stood a proud man, his mother knicknamed him 'dont forget the S at the end' for 
the rest of his life. Haunted by this mispelling, the skill of writing was 
sympathized upon him by the trees Spiritual ghosts.

Disdain Spring

 

Disdain spring. Open the huge bathtub every soul wakes up, in to live they day to midnight lives.

 

Tranquil clamping of ambient music and stainless steel fork scraping on a pale white plate, screeching and gaping a magnificent scrawny prisoners asshole in an day old baby infants ear hole.

 

This is life young one. And because I’m the mediator I choose to plug the music from the cheering plate and jeers of the ghosts in the stands of the Colosseum to the world’s most powerful loudspeaker to make sure they get it.

 

I am the corporate suit – who you are, in your darkest hour.

 

I thrive off benevolence and find awe in blissful destruction.  The spirit from the snake in Eden never died with the snake – it hovered.

 

For centuries after good triumphed it hovered, and shared the success of the most prolific man of their era.  It did not sour and grace the skies like an eagle before tunneling down for its much-anticipated prey.

 

It hovered.

 

It did not go under the earth to build a home, wash its skin before drying it in its garden – a meter above her lake of fire. It did not go under earth because roots, the foundation of trees suffocated, stifled and threatened its survival. The interwoven things are its demise, finding a way back is merely impossible. And so, it didn’t go down. In fact it was afraid of the dark, and quickly decided against it.

 

It stayed abroad and shared the success of all prolific men in the world’s timeline ever since its physical forms demise. Manifesting in the sole of their cloud 9’s, skipping – continent-to-continent to stay on the good side of the sun (because it was afraid of the dark, you see.)

 

It did this until the day I was born.

 

31 March 1989.

 

It found a worthy capsule to grow and die in. Hitler was not the one because he did not understand the prospect of a rainbow the Jews gloated within them. Gloating the teachings of Jesus, Hitler loved the dark. And that was a contradiction.

 

I thrive in the night; stand naked in the cold of the winter. Excruciatingly visible bumpy Goosebumps on my skin, mirroring the stars in the night sky. Shriveled up penis to show the power of woman.

 

I thrive in the day, learning off traveling souls putting together their futures to be like those them most admire/ to not be like those they most envy.

 

I thrive in the day, too, as that is where the birds chirp overpowers the croaking from a family of frogs in a slimy-slippery lazy next-door moth bounded pool.

 

24 years I have existed. And decide to live, as slitting my wrists would be futile, because all hippies bleed rainbows.

 

I’m a ‘Hippie’ who believes in albinos and that a bird is sours free until it becomes munched.

 

Conscience, love and money are what breathe sense to my life.

 

Money, being that of the world, is my flesh and represents the typical life of a student.

 

Love, that I find in my family and girlfriend.

 

Art, being conscience, hence I am conscious and yet asleep.

 

Even when asleep

 

I don’t remember my dreams because in my bodies sleep, the spirit of the ancient serpent feeds from – my dreams.