retrodude88

To sough is to reap To bow is to weep And to slow down a step Is to die T'say this is to keep all rights to my sleep And not to get caught in The tide In these troubled times We mask truths with these rhymes To free the grinning man Who tried to bomb the ban And terror becomes the police Die Peace! What they use to keepup Is what we try to hold down And our only defense Against these blood-soaked clowns But I guess, in the end What has happened we cant mend In these troubles, in these truths We can't hear the Eagle's swoops In therse troubled times We mask truths with these rhymes To free the grinning man Who tried to

   We begin with a hand, a nondescript hand,in the corner of the shot we see the side of a plaque, which gives us the name ofthe hand-owner, which is Norman Exile. by it's suit cuff you can tell it belongs to a man who works in the office, we do not see the man's face or anything else, the hand is writing, we do not see what it is, but can just see the occasional word. We hear a door close with a loud click. The hand stops writing, pauses: Seated man:"you're here aready?" the next shot is of the man who comes through the door, nothing but the man's hand is seen, the hand is holding a gun, it is not pointed at the seated man, but is held a

Thick and soaked with blood Is the soil beneath my feet The blood of many soldiers, Met with cold defeat We were fighting for our lord A strong and a proud man To die for him, an honour, The leader of our strong clan But alas, the spell is broken The feud, a scam, the lord, a fool But I have made up my mind, This foolish man shan't rule That was many years ago The lord had me dismissed Honour beckoned me to leave With the clenching of my fists But on this soil is now a farm To bring me sweet revenge The destruction of the clan The aim of this blood-henge It's no normal crop of wheat But dead warriors From the feild With

A person's hands are godly things That create aswell as destroy, they turn the feelings of the soul To tangible reality To think god created sunsets And Atilla raped and pillaged using a pair of these For me to write this for you to view to accept a gift and to recieve one To express, to help To kill to use and abuse As you see my freinds, The hands are a gift From God and Satan combined But how you use them no-one can demand It's just how you decide That will show all where, and why you stand

There's faces on the road There's faces in the rain More faces seem to appear With more ground I gain There are demons on my tail The demons in black suits They're intent on chasing me From my deep old roots But maybe, this is best For I have way too long Lived a life of shamelessness Replaying the same old song Now it's time, the song will change The faces are too much I'm turning round my thoughts A man who has been touched Hello demons, hello freinds But then you're all the same Broken faces from the past You like to see my shame Why should I change, if all you are, are murderers, and petty crooks Two-faced and whispe

Dreamless people drift this life The dead, they are known as But really, they are just us our shadows beneath the ground They're the ones on the other side Just waiting, waiting for us Their only time to contact Is in our dreams, our nightmares Don't become one of these men They're souls are crushed to dust Living suicidal lives Craving our attention Probing the walls of reality We must shut them out Fighting to stand at our sides In our weakest times In this life we have few joys My freinds, they pull us down Playing on our fears, our doubts We must not join them there

they will tell you where they went And how they got there too But untill you're discovered The world will not know you Spilt milk and lost balloons Picture books and toys None of this will truly last I tell you girls and boys Some men find their life's purpose When they're young and brave But others find their lives legend When they're beyond the Grave Spilt milk and lost balloons Picture books and toys None of this will truly last I tell you, girls and boys What I'm trying to tell you is Innocence does not stay Pick yourselves up off the ground And find your own way Spilt milk and lost balloons Picture books and toys No

Litter's dancing dance of death Thunder rolls nearby Lock clicking like grasshoppers While a baby cries I can smell it in the air like the smell of blood There's going to be trouble In the Neighbourhood The rain has finally come and has made moist the air And with it have rolled the mists Cloudy as a dead man's stare I can smell it in the air Like the smell of blood There's going to be trouble In the neighbourhood Trouble on the old estate Cracks in the pavement A web of fear and hate That fuels the cruel hunt I can smell it in the air Like the smell of blood There's going to be trouble In the neighbourhood

You're too sadistic for me I should get up and leave but your mind is just too sharp I could not have believed I'm rolling in the corner and am bleeding now You're proud of your work on me why don't you take a bow One of these days I'll get up And take a real good aim you will not know what hit you And who from it had came But for now you're still in charge sharpening your tools While I scurry round the house playing it by your rules your back is turned, now's my chance I lunge forward and take a stab You buckle, then begin to sag you fat oaf, weighed down by your flab I live inside a shoebox And someone's looking in Spi

A lady shot a man to death In the spring of may And her reason for this was That she was having a bad day Is this love Is this Hate No it's not It's just fate A teenager charged with theft Is serving five years All because he joined the crowd And to help his peers Is this love Is this hate No it's not It's just fate A man killed himself today Because of his wife She wouldn't let him see his son He was the centre of his lifeIs this love Is this love Is this hate No it's not It's just fate Why d'we live upon this world Filled with such Injustice It's wound tighter than a spring Or a vicious clenched fist Is this lo

On sin I ask you, what is sin? What is this human concept that spreads itself through all culture, creeds and religion? The popular definition is the transgression from God's will and the condition of estrangement arising from such transgression. Since I was brought up in a household void of religion or any of the Christian God's teachings, does this mean I am free from sin, or that every act I have ever committed is classed as sin? Is God necessary for sin? In a matter of speaking yes, but if we look beyond the Judeo-Christian walls imposed upon us we would see a much older concept : wrong. I, living without religion as I do, still understa

He holds her hand with tears falling He would have saved her if he heard her calling But she was silent and words were not said She was preoccupied of the need to be dead. Her beautiful skin, now white from no life Her eyes now dim, they'll never sparkle with light Her body is still, there's no laughter or shouts But for once she won't feel the haunting self doubts. He touched her check as he glared at her blood It was her life drained from her vein, resembling a flood He wished he had known that she wanted to die But she slipped from the world with not even a cry.

No more crying after all you're finally gone I walk across the pavement and wonder why it took so long I cannot help but glance back at the grave It's so dead quiet forgive the pun but that is where you lay. Heaven help you now You are out of my hands the memory of you is washing away may you be damned. This phantom is a plague to me I cannot forget Wash it off in heated water and just let Phantoms of memory I have returned to where you rest I hope you've learned I'll go away lest I stay... I hold your tombstone tight my tears come fast This phantom memory won't release me Even though your time is past. I finally come

This Diary Belongs to: Mitch and Angeles. January 19, 2005 ANGELES (Prologue...of sorts...) Welcome to the society where werewolves, vampires, demons, etc, are considered the everyday for some folks. Not that they accept us. Aw, hell no. So, me, Angeles the werewolf and my partner, Mitch, the vampire, decided to help out the society by getting rid of demons. We sort of live in California, and yet...we sort of don't. I decided to keep a diary, so you can see what we do in our everyday life... HOWEVER... this must not, under any circumstances, fall into the wrong hands. Should it, you, us, and the whole world, maybe, could be in BIG, BIG