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Post by Nicole on Dec 21, 2009 10:52:38 GMT -5
The king of your world, the world you represent.
On top of your hill, on the tip of unpleasant.
You mumble to me, or its all that I hear.
Your words really loud, but nothing it will pierce.
I am not afraid of the loss you have dug your grave.
It makes no sense to me the things that you've done
Tip top on the hill, it will not last.
The rain will flood in, the rock falling fast.
The tip of the hill is most venerable you see, to the wind and the rain and the falling of trees.
I have nothing to say, nothing to do, nothing I have shall belong to you.
Each day that you lay, each day that you lie shit comes from your mouth like barf from the fly.
I bless you for believing all that you are, believing in invincibility and wishing on stars.
It will come to an end and you will be in trouble again.
The End.
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Post by flax on Dec 27, 2009 19:03:41 GMT -5
Me or Mike?
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