What's that you said dawg? You wanna talk trash?
Let's see how tough you look with a dick in your ass
What's that you said dawg? You wanna talk trash?
Let's see how tough you look with a dick in your ass
fuck that ****** shit, my niggas on that savage shitOriginally Posted by Within
fuckin' the game and shovin' daggers through the ass of it
the wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round.
You spin my head right round, right round
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Don't remember where I was
I realized life was a game
The more seriously I took things
The harder the rules became
I had no idea what it'd cost
My life passed before my eyes
When I found out how little I accomplished
All my plans denied
How I did it make ‘em hate my spirit, they wish they could kill it
And they’ll take it however they can get it
Wanna see me fulla misery, walkin’ wit’ my head down
“Let’s decapitate him, then we’ll see if he can wear his crown
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Simple smiles elude psychotic eyes
Lose all mind control rationale declines
Empty eyes enslave the creations
Of placid faces and lifeless pageants
What you gonna tell your dad
It's like a wheel of fortune
And what you gonna tell your dad
If this wheel lets you down
(..)
Stop acting cool
Just bet you might win
...and my ties are severed clean
The less I have the more I gain
Off the beaten path I reign
Rover wanderer
Nomad vagabond
Call me what you will
This magic winter night I see a light
Again I hear that tune, some sort of croon
Oh no, no, no, oh, my brain.
I see them gypsy waggons left in the snow
Oh, I must see that lady, I have to know
Gypsy woman, let me inside
They say you know the secret, secret of time
So gaze into your crystal and tell me
All you see
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Blackened is the end
Winter it will send
Throwing all you see
Into obscurity
Death of mother Earth
Never a rebirth
Evolution's end
Never will it mend
Cause it's witchcraft, wicked witchcraft
And although, I know, it's strictly taboo
Nomad, rider of the ancient east
Nomad, rider that men know the least
Nomad, where you come from no one knows
Nomad, where you go to no one tells
No one dares to even look or glance your way
Your reputation goes before you they all say
Like a spirit that can disappear at will
Many claim of things but no one's seen you kill
You gotta be crazy, you gotta have a real need
You gotta sleep on your toes, and when you're on the street
You gotta be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed
Circling your, circling your, circling your head,
Contemplating everything you ever said
Now I see the truth, I got doubt
A different motive in your eyes and now I’m out
See you later
I see your fantasy, you want to make it a reality paved in gold
See inside, inside of our heads (yeah)
Well now that’s over
I see your motives inside, decisions to hide
Last edited by Aylen; 01-13-2014 at 08:59 PM.
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Don't know what you think you sawCircling your, circling your, circling your head,
Contemplating everything you ever said
Now I see the truth, I got doubt
A different motive in your eyes and now I’m out
See you later
I see your fantasy, you want to make it a reality paved in gold
See inside, inside of our heads (yeah)
Well now that’s over
I see your motives inside, decisions to hide
You didn't know at all
Lost sight of who you are
Keen to make a connection
Forced myself into dimension
Lost sight of myself
Entranced in irreversible thought
Believe in reality, I will not
Trained & taught
Blamed & crucified
Residual night time visual
Unclear sight strained
Irritate the ember of perception
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Yellow matter custard dripping from a dead dog's eye
Crabalocker fishwife pornographic priestess
Boy you been a naughty girl, you let your knickers down
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen
I am the walrus, goo goo goo joob
I'm feelin kind of n-a-s-t-y
I just might take you home with me
Baby the minute i feel your energy
Your vibe's just taken over me
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for
rape as a weapon and not seeing both sex partners as active and strong is pretty messed up
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