Coma Black

"Cut the head off
Grows back hard
I am the Hydra
Now you'll see your star" Marilyn sung at the top of his lungs, he threw his head back vigorously, letting his raven black hair whip at his back onto his back. his eyes twitching, his black eye make-up smudged every witch way, he rolled his crystal eyes, as if they rolled to the back of his skull.
I quickly turned my concentration to the audience, the crowd of adoring fans. They loved us, as we loved them. I thrust my head back and forth to the heavy beat as the song came to a finish, my heavy black dreads flying into and out of my pale face.

Suddenly, Manson lunged towards his mic-stand and started smashing it against the drum set, everything got wild and my heart started racing, galloping. the last thing i could recall was Marilyn, Zim and i throwing our instruments across the stage, flying in every direction. Our fans loved it, i tossed my blood red guitar pick into the audience and discretely wiped the sweat off my brow. I stormed off stage, my heart was pounding, my blood boiling, i had this built up rage and i loved it!

~in the dressing room~
I poured the Luke-warm water onto my face, holding the bottle above my tilted head and shaking it off my face after the last misty drops had hit my forehead. I ruffed out the crinkles on my baby pink dress, smoothing them over with my rough hands that were still damp with the water from the bottle. Finally, it was all over. I loved our fans, they are our second family, but it's tiring, fun but...tiresome.

After smashing the leftover glass ornaments in our now messy dressing room in attempt to pass time whilst Marilyn was finishing up whatever he was doing, we pulled a leather trench coat over my back and we (as a band) exited the site from the back and slipped into a black car, it was dark out side, i couldn't see the make of the car, but i knew sure as hell it would get us out of the city!