Quote:
Originally posted by bloodrayne
Junkyard God
My knuckles are bleeding on your front door
and these flowers are wilting in the rain.
They were for you and now they are for no one.
They are irrelevant as mercenaries in times of peace.
They are smoke twisting off the lips of a movie star.
Here is a boy with paper skin who longs to touch the girl of broken glass.
She loves it when he wears his skin like that.
In tatters.
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yep dont be looking for that kind of coherency in the bauhaus lyrics :)
she's in parties
its in the can
what the fuck ?
but i agree, its the music i like ... otherwise i wouldnt have 90% of the albums i owned.
there are millions of albums in existence .. there are but a small handfull of good poets :)