Sitting by my lonesome self
In my dark corner, on a dusty shelf
The love I had for all my friends
Has come to an all-too-jagged end
I once had what I now desire
But as of late I'm worn and tired
Does anyone out there have care for my feelings?
A corpse on a rope, hanging limp from the ceiling.
A dashboard that's laden with shrapnel and glass...
Blood pours from my neck like wine from a flask!
Desperate hands reach for what none can grasp
Her shattered evening...
so longed for, so mourned
My ninth of December,
Her nothing more...................
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