The African trinkets

Disarm

*a picture of Lance

*warning: sexual theme... Please don't report me :X*

Disarm by The Smashing Pumpkin (But The Civil Wars cover)

Disarm you with a smile 

And cut you like you want me to 

Cut that little child 

Inside of me and such a part of you 

Ooh, the years burn

I used to be a little boy 

So old in my shoes 

And what i choose is my choice 

What's a boy supposed to do? 

The killer in me is the killer in you 

My love 

I send this smile over to you

Disarm you with a smile 

And leave you like they left me here 

To wither in denial 

The bitterness of one who's left alone 

Ooh, the years burn 

Ooh, the years burn, burn, burn

I used to be a little boy 

So old in my shoes 

And what I choose is my voice 

What's a boy supposed to do? 

The killer in me is the killer in you 

My love 

I send this smile over to you

The killer in me is the killer in you 

Send this smile over to you 

The killer in me is the killer in you 

Send this smile over to you 

The killer in me is the killer in you 

Send this smile over to you

Lance looked upon his still father at first with fury. The man who lay on one of the thousands of trays at the city's morgue looked so much like Lance that he fought the yearning to pummel his fists into his father's face, disfigure it, to dissociate himself from the corpse.

"When I heard that we would be receiving general Tate, I knew to make special provision." The woman who had greeted his with a squeezing of a hand spoke as she rolled the sheet off of Lance's father and stopped at the corpse's naval.

"Thank you very much, miss. I am much obliged." Lance's tone was so flat that he felt the need to give her a small smile of gratitude which translated as a tight, uncomfortable smile.

"Oh, it was the least I could do for the general. He came here all battered and scratched so I took it upon myself to clean him off, shave his beard and brush his hair- make him look like the respectable man that he was." She fussed over his father.

"I must bestow my thanks to you once again. Father would've appreciated your efforts." Lance didn't know what more to say to her. Death was awkward enough for the living but now in front of an audience of this devote woman, Lance felt even more insecure.

"It was the least I could do, mr. Tate. When I heard of general Tate's padding I felt an awful twist of my heart. The man was the manifestation of courage, why he saved my son Henry on the battle field of that messy brawl in South Africa. My Henry must be about your age and, I'm sure like you, he cannot hold his tongue when it comes to singing general Tate's valiancy." She looked at him and waited for Lance to load his opinion on top of hers but Lance couldn't bring himself to do such. Lance fidgeted with the black hat in his hands.