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Because everyone I love is a thief.
Because we were born in unbelieving, both you & I.
Created on 2005-03-19 20:12:18 (#6503972), last updated 2005-12-07
326 comments received, 85 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
51 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 3 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | Please believe I love you just the way you are. |
|---|---|
| Location: | United States |
BioLadies and gentlemen, set yourself on fire!
Why? You can't remember why.
Because my mother is gone and your father is dead, and all the bad guys can't wait to chop us into pieces and turn us into oil.
You may have heard the rumours that we are dead, that they'd captured us and were prepared to throw away the key but it was all lies. We come to you toinght from a jail cell in Jersey, which we shared with Bruce Springsteen's deaf half-brother and a sycophantic whore.
You guessing, your world all sweaty ties and no more autographs please...keeping your manners together.
The golden piece waiting. Inside, the tide keeps rising, rolling out a hundred or so horse corpses; the sad, curious lament of the French horn moving in your organs like some lingering opium promise.
Ladies and Gentlemen, we know what it means to have your gods already dead in the wet mouths of republican swine.
Because you held me with those famous tangerine hands. Because everyone I love is a thief. Because we were born in unbelieving, both you & I.
We'll not live like this. They will try to bury us with false manifestoes, inscribe us in wars against false enemies but we'll sing songs about dying from loving the wrong cowboy and gospel; our bodies will burn in effigies of promise. I swear.
--the inside cover of "set yourself on fire," by stars.
everything in this journal is copyrighted by me. bitch.
Why? You can't remember why.
Because my mother is gone and your father is dead, and all the bad guys can't wait to chop us into pieces and turn us into oil.
You may have heard the rumours that we are dead, that they'd captured us and were prepared to throw away the key but it was all lies. We come to you toinght from a jail cell in Jersey, which we shared with Bruce Springsteen's deaf half-brother and a sycophantic whore.
You guessing, your world all sweaty ties and no more autographs please...keeping your manners together.
The golden piece waiting. Inside, the tide keeps rising, rolling out a hundred or so horse corpses; the sad, curious lament of the French horn moving in your organs like some lingering opium promise.
Ladies and Gentlemen, we know what it means to have your gods already dead in the wet mouths of republican swine.
Because you held me with those famous tangerine hands. Because everyone I love is a thief. Because we were born in unbelieving, both you & I.
We'll not live like this. They will try to bury us with false manifestoes, inscribe us in wars against false enemies but we'll sing songs about dying from loving the wrong cowboy and gospel; our bodies will burn in effigies of promise. I swear.
--the inside cover of "set yourself on fire," by stars.
everything in this journal is copyrighted by me. bitch.
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