2019
March
The end
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When Doves Cry, For Assassins

Dig if you will the picture
of you and I engaged on a job.
Your nervous sweat beads on your top lip
Can you, my darling
Can you kill this man?

Dream if you can a courtyard
An ocean of violence ensues
Security guards strike curious poses
They can feel the heat
The heat as we shoot them dead

We won’t leave witnesses standing
We’re tools in a world that’s so cold (so cold)
Maybe I’m just too backhanded
Maybe I’m just like my master, too good
Maybe I’m just like my bosses
They’re never satisfied (they’re never satisfied)
Why do we shoot at each other?
This is what it sounds like
When guns cry

Touch if you will my stomach
Feel all the organs inside
You’ve chamber just the one round
Don’t make me chase you
Hired guns have pride

I won’t leave witnesses standing
A tool in a world that’s so cold (so cold)
Maybe I’m just too backhanded
Maybe I’m just like my master, too good
Maybe I’m just like my bosses
They’re never satisfied (they’re never satisfied)
Why do we shoot at each other?
This is what it sounds like
When guns cry

When guns cry (guns cry, guns cry)

Don’t Cry (Don’t Cry)

When guns cry
When guns cry

Dead Dove

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As I grow older, I find the music of my youth does not fill me with the satisfaction it once did. Hearing “fading fucking reminder” no longer makes me wonder at the power of the fuck. I find myself constantly looking for new music to “thrill me up.” …except for Powerslave. Enter the risen Osiris, risen Again!

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I am the man who went down the stairs for water, and came up the stairs with beer. They should make a movie about me.

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I slam my fists against the post and still insist I see a ghost.

The end