Sequel: Stardust ›
Status: We'll see, kids.
Kelly Lawrence
and i'm so ugly;
Walls don’t judge you.
They’re brick and they’re cement and they’re so simple and they just can’t. Inanimate objects; what a beautiful term. It means no judgment and no opinions and just a dumb silence and, oh – isn’t that what rules want from us? To shut up and accept and take and give and to step? We should be simple.
Death trickles from my lips and I can feel his eyes on me. He’s staring and if he isn’t careful a little birdie is going to catch him and oh, that wouldn’t be good. He can say goodbye to friends and reputation and his sanity because we don’t need that here in wonderland because it’s okay; we’re all mad here. The best people always are.
People always stare because what’s more interesting than a broken rule? Bruises and cuts and what a nice rip. Jeans, tight? Is that screaming, is that blood? Don’t talk to him, you might end up like him. They can wish, they can wish for freedom but they don’t know what it’s like yet. They’ll want the drugs and the guitars and I don’t have them yet but I can escape and if it’s not like that then I’ll trip from the edge and I’ll die with a fucking smile because fuck you, you can’t get me down.
And whether they’re tripping or they’re stepping they’ll think of little old Kelly with this head full of thoughts and jeans full of rips and know that he got there first.
They’re brick and they’re cement and they’re so simple and they just can’t. Inanimate objects; what a beautiful term. It means no judgment and no opinions and just a dumb silence and, oh – isn’t that what rules want from us? To shut up and accept and take and give and to step? We should be simple.
Death trickles from my lips and I can feel his eyes on me. He’s staring and if he isn’t careful a little birdie is going to catch him and oh, that wouldn’t be good. He can say goodbye to friends and reputation and his sanity because we don’t need that here in wonderland because it’s okay; we’re all mad here. The best people always are.
People always stare because what’s more interesting than a broken rule? Bruises and cuts and what a nice rip. Jeans, tight? Is that screaming, is that blood? Don’t talk to him, you might end up like him. They can wish, they can wish for freedom but they don’t know what it’s like yet. They’ll want the drugs and the guitars and I don’t have them yet but I can escape and if it’s not like that then I’ll trip from the edge and I’ll die with a fucking smile because fuck you, you can’t get me down.
And whether they’re tripping or they’re stepping they’ll think of little old Kelly with this head full of thoughts and jeans full of rips and know that he got there first.
♠ ♠ ♠
thank you to everyone who has thus far contributed,more comments would be appreciated <3