Post by DonnaDarko on Jan 22, 2004 19:13:55 GMT -5
This car is small, but these feelings are at the top.
Your face is still smooth even though your heart is at a stop.
The sky has turned, its turning to the way of my destiny.
Its not all clear, not until I wake in my bed, soon I will be free.
Laughter rings, it shatters threw all that has been done.
And here it comes, the sleep that was never wanted…until I found that gun.
Soon the thoughts and knowledge of what has happened will fade.
I will end up loosing my love, and maybe more if I don’t undo what I had made.
The pillow is soft, the smile is wide, and the sigh is one of relaxation.
Dieing alone isn’t all that bad, as long as you don’t take someone with you, as long as there is no devastation.
But there is, the devastations of family and friends.
The thought of that old lady that will walk across that street again.
No memory, no responsibility, and here comes the forgotten pain.
Here comes the lost strain.
A wave to a person that was the mother of your lost lover.
The love that ran deep, the cigarette and running eyeliner that runs from broken sleep.
She will not sleep.
Her name was fack, but at lest now nothing will break, not a heart, not a bone.
Is it really that bad to die alone?
Your face is still smooth even though your heart is at a stop.
The sky has turned, its turning to the way of my destiny.
Its not all clear, not until I wake in my bed, soon I will be free.
Laughter rings, it shatters threw all that has been done.
And here it comes, the sleep that was never wanted…until I found that gun.
Soon the thoughts and knowledge of what has happened will fade.
I will end up loosing my love, and maybe more if I don’t undo what I had made.
The pillow is soft, the smile is wide, and the sigh is one of relaxation.
Dieing alone isn’t all that bad, as long as you don’t take someone with you, as long as there is no devastation.
But there is, the devastations of family and friends.
The thought of that old lady that will walk across that street again.
No memory, no responsibility, and here comes the forgotten pain.
Here comes the lost strain.
A wave to a person that was the mother of your lost lover.
The love that ran deep, the cigarette and running eyeliner that runs from broken sleep.
She will not sleep.
Her name was fack, but at lest now nothing will break, not a heart, not a bone.
Is it really that bad to die alone?
Someone said the film is as intelligent as your brain can allow, well I must be pretty dumb then but with a desire to understand.... Surely that's what really counts right?