MOLOTOV v0
forcible text destruction engine
principia.txt    BUDDAH.txt    inutrek.txt    target2.txt    molotov.phps    error_log    index2.php    answers.txt    questions.txt    pforum.txt    GPOST.TXT    target-apr14.txt    anarchy.txt    list.txt    target.txt    kclyric.txt    quoties.txt    roleplay01.txt    func.php    target3.txt    index.php    book1.txt    creepy.txt    chatr.txt   
Im on the mountain.

The gardener plants an evergreen whilst trampling on a sun dial playing hide and seek with the ghosts of dawn waiting for the sun on the outside looking inside what do i see is in the shallows of a river lonely moonchild dreaming in the dream i fall into the sleepless sea with a swell of panic and pain my veins are aching for the distant reef in the jungle of motor block manifolds and metal relics. What was deluxe becomes debris, i never questioned loyalty, but this dead end demolishes the dream i fall into the sleepless sea with a swell of panic and pain my veins are aching for the sun on the outside looking inside what do i see much confusion, disillusion all around me. Blood rack barbed wire politicians funeral pyre innocents raped with napalm fire twenty first century schizoid man.

On soft grey mornings widows cry, the seeds of time were sown, and watered by the deeds of those who know and who are known; knowledge is a deadly friend when no one lay the laurel wreath as silence drowns the screams. Sailling on the beach in the hands of fools. You dont possess me dont impress me just upset my mind cant instruct me or conduct me just upset my mind cant instruct me or conduct me just upset my mind cant instruct me or conduct me just upset my mind cant instruct me or conduct me just use up my time.

Between the iron gates of fate, the rumble in your bed. On soft grey mornings widows cry, the seeds of time were sown, and watered by the dirty angry bay. Wouldnt matter to a telephone ring she could be sleeping in the hands of fools. Im on the mountain. Silhouettes like shivering ancient feelings they cover my foreign floors and walls submarines are lurking in my head well, what more can be said. The rusted chains of prison moons are shattered by the dirty angry bay. Not a saviour or a saint imperfect in a word make no mistake but i give you everything i have take me as i crawl a cracked and broken path if we make it we can all sit back and laugh.