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But did you know I write love songs? (I DON’T write love songs)

November 16, 2013

Here’s a sample. I apologize in advance.

Pull me from the gutter
And tell me who to be
Scrub my soul with bleach until
There is no “I” or “Me”

Cut me to the bone until
I gasp for one last breath
Kiss my bleeding lips until
They’re cold and blue with death

(This part draws heavily on a snippet of lyrics from Zathyn Priest, whom I adore, and whom I hope won’t sue the pants off me.)
I’m innocent, you’re wicked
You’re sullied, I’m naive
I drink your poison daily
Now I can hardly breathe

You forced me into moaning
Coerced me into bed
You promised me the stars above
Then dragged me down to Hell instead.

 

And of course, what I REALLY wanted to write directly after this line:

Cut me to the bone until
I gasp for one last breath

Was NOT:
Kiss my bleeding lips until
They’re cold and blue with death

And WAS actually:

And fuck me in the ass, my love,
while your dick’s covered in meth.

Because, you know, I’m a romantic. (Clearly, songwriting is something I take VERY seriously.)

 

 

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From → fiction, rants

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