weine nicht
Some nights I thirst for real blood,
for real knives, for real cries.
And then the flash of steel from real guns
in real life really fills my mind.

Then I really miss
what really did exist when I held your throat so tight.
And I miss the bus as it swerved from us
and almost came crashing to its side.

Sometimes the blood from real cuts
feels real nice when it's really mine.


+++++

Ach, weiß nicht.
25.5.07 16:34
 


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