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Cancer and SinI the morning,Cancer and Sin
I crave you sinnful insence In the evening,
I hold the stick of pain Going slow as your coals once did,
So do my days alone Wrestling the sound of deamons,
Every sound peirces holes through the days of hell. I cant get over your look, your feel, your taste The beautiful sound of nonsence. Tired of anger, seize this day.
Filling my brain with toxins. A sence of illness haunts me. Oh what I'd do for that soft feel on my lips. Pale white frustration can't hold back such a gruge. Feeling starvation for my black lungs.
Soulfully thi
by starsheartsandtears
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