tchlowlife
The Fly
- Joined
- Nov 5, 2000
- Messages
- 55
i am coloured blind
see black and white
no grays inbetween
everything is perfect
i understand (dont)
i am alone- need- dead
from the window in an armani
his plans fell through his hands
what a particular way to die, shaking hands with mephistopheles
grab the wallet- grab the watch
whats to be done wit? it?
put it on! place it in a shoe box to give to your son
so this is the day to see his end from a window
the well suited man fell to his concrete grave
never walked through a chilled meadow
now an alabaster clump. one would see his wonderful suit
lived a life only followed by the brave
elegant suit- a suit that only fit one man
tailored for this one man- smiling as he went
what a way to go- his hands wrote literature
some would say to die for- now he has died to write
the fingers are mangled and broken
so many feelings left unspoken
signature - a signature in blood
had a knack for it - for other?s names that is
looks as if he didnt do too good a job
standing against the window sill looking down
at the talented hands now fat and bloated
the sidewalk fill
upon the table laid the bogus bill
beside it a bottle o? ink
The banker, too tired to think
left to stare at the talent laying face down on the walkway
the banker slumps down to see the bay
from this... his 6 floor window dwarfed in fog, the light cuts through
all turns quiet all still,
over the crowds roar the sound of his heavy prayer
immensely his choices grew
no choices left at all
as he fell from the window a voice behind him
exclaimed on a whim
everything you say and write
has killed plenty in this endless fight
In the banker?s mind a child?s face
he announced that his
?Innocence was hidden in the trenches of deceit?
see black and white
no grays inbetween
everything is perfect
i understand (dont)
i am alone- need- dead
from the window in an armani
his plans fell through his hands
what a particular way to die, shaking hands with mephistopheles
grab the wallet- grab the watch
whats to be done wit? it?
put it on! place it in a shoe box to give to your son
so this is the day to see his end from a window
the well suited man fell to his concrete grave
never walked through a chilled meadow
now an alabaster clump. one would see his wonderful suit
lived a life only followed by the brave
elegant suit- a suit that only fit one man
tailored for this one man- smiling as he went
what a way to go- his hands wrote literature
some would say to die for- now he has died to write
the fingers are mangled and broken
so many feelings left unspoken
signature - a signature in blood
had a knack for it - for other?s names that is
looks as if he didnt do too good a job
standing against the window sill looking down
at the talented hands now fat and bloated
the sidewalk fill
upon the table laid the bogus bill
beside it a bottle o? ink
The banker, too tired to think
left to stare at the talent laying face down on the walkway
the banker slumps down to see the bay
from this... his 6 floor window dwarfed in fog, the light cuts through
all turns quiet all still,
over the crowds roar the sound of his heavy prayer
immensely his choices grew
no choices left at all
as he fell from the window a voice behind him
exclaimed on a whim
everything you say and write
has killed plenty in this endless fight
In the banker?s mind a child?s face
he announced that his
?Innocence was hidden in the trenches of deceit?