there's no hope for either of us
let's get lost on a cliff and yell at Hell
shoot our lucky stars, strap our wrists
fly from the world that'll never tell
attention to detail isn't allowed
fog chokes the truth in their throats
partying until we're drunk or dead
suicide is the reason oil floats
YOU ARE READING
A Little Thing Called Death
Poesíai won't explain many of these. they are for you to work out and they'll probably mean something different to everyone. (i own these poems) ((FINISHED.))
