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I sing a song of misery, for it seems to be destiny
My life just gets the best of me... it won't be mine much longer, see.
This is a gun; the bullets, 3. And these 3 bullets long to be...
Fired out, to be set free. To find some place that is bloody.
So i will let them live in me... BANG! There goes all my memories.
Now i lay here, growing cold... with nothing but this gun i hold.
I'm glad my heart has been consoled, mended with these bullet holes.
I'll say farewell to all i've told... i'm leaving now, love's getting old.
 Representative of Kiba · Tue Nov 20, 2007 @ 10:02pm · 4 Comments |
