Friday
Sunday
Monday
Florence And The Machine - My Boy Builds Coffins | SK* Session
My boy builds coffins and I think it's a shame
That when each ones been made, he can't see it again
He crafts everyone with love and with care
Then its thrown in the ground and it just isn't fair
That when each ones been made, he can't see it again
He crafts everyone with love and with care
Then its thrown in the ground and it just isn't fair
woke up in a strange place
feet wet
aching mind
no place to go
stood up and continued to walk
ferns between each toe
drank water which a leaf held-
grasped for clouds that
seemed closer than air
only to choke on misleading
thoughts and dreams
which I throw into
this River
looking for answers-
as I
stood still
a flower
began to grow
out my nose
out my ears
this flower
began to
G R O W
G R O W
Wednesday
Monday
Tuesday
Friday
Can’t say I miss the
Way you licked my
Scars
Can’t say I miss
The way you
Pulled my hair
With the beast
Inside
Ready to yell
I don’t think you
Truly got a taste
Can’t say I miss
Your love
For I was dead
For centuries
When you were
Around and I
Did nothing
To you man
But give my love
Can’t say I
miss you
anymore
no competition
love is love
and nothing
compares to his
or hers
i can't quite
place a finger
on it
all i know is
love is love
and the way
he loved me
can't compare
to the love we
share
we hold in the
dawn's rain
this love isn't
like anything
i've ever felt
touched
kissed .....
love is love
but don't make
me compare
I want to scream
I want to scream
I want to scream
.....
Ripping down our walls
Taking the dog out
While you turn sour and sore
Killing me with your
Mean words and the sins
Afraid of not being your
Friend, when you wanted
To throw this heart to
The moon, I still held on
Silly me, silly me, silly me
Grab the knife and just kill
Me
Why don’t you
as my osseous
heart
slowly sinks
to oblivion
seventy nuns
take my dreams
and hoard them
letting them rot
and smell
as June Bugs
create a Hell
an inlet
for all North American
Bugs
a Pail full of tears, i've been
carrying around
for fucking years-
it's time to
let the summer soak
and the mosquitoes
moan
as i gaze three
alligators
make way
heart
slowly sinks
to oblivion
seventy nuns
take my dreams
and hoard them
letting them rot
and smell
as June Bugs
create a Hell
an inlet
for all North American
Bugs
a Pail full of tears, i've been
carrying around
for fucking years-
it's time to
let the summer soak
and the mosquitoes
moan
as i gaze three
alligators
make way
sharp knives
Running off a mountain
Just to feel the wind
In between these
Arms
A place where you
Used to hide
Now an empty ocean
No one knows where to
Lie anymore
I used to take the words
I used to take the pain
But finally my eyes
And I couldn’t find
My breath
With a needle to my
Head
A gun to the ground
Hold my heart up
And set fire
To the holes in
My head