MOLOTOV v0
forcible text destruction engine
inutrek.txt    answers.txt    target.txt    BUDDAH.txt    quoties.txt    molotov.phps    index.php    list.txt    creepy.txt    error_log    book1.txt    roleplay01.txt    GPOST.TXT    kclyric.txt    func.php    target-apr14.txt    target2.txt    anarchy.txt    questions.txt    principia.txt    chatr.txt    target3.txt    index2.php    pforum.txt   
I talk to the wind my words are all carried away i talk to the court of the crimson king including the dream of an open highway. Not a model man not a model man look at the seams. Upon the instruments of death the sunlight brightly gleams. When every man is torn apart with nightmares and with dreams, will no one lay the laurel wreath as silence drowns the screams. Not a saviour or a saint imperfect in a milk white gown dropping circle stones on a sun dial playing hide and seek with the ghosts of dawn waiting for a smile from a sun dial playing hide and seek with the ghosts of dawn waiting for the distant reef in the comfort of another bed it wouldnt matter to a telephone ring she could be sleeping in the shallows of a river lonely moonchild dreaming in the shade could be moody, dramatic as a shadow in the dream i fall into the sleepless sea with a swell of panic and pain my veins are aching for the court of the cobweb strange sleeping on the echoes of the fire witch and the illusion call her moonchild dancing in the hands of fools. Alright, the choir softly sing; three lullabies in an ancient tongue, for the court of the crimson king including the return of the crimson king. Confusion will be my epitaph. As i crawl a cracked and broken path if we make it we can all sit back and laugh. But i fear tomorrow ill be crying, yes i fear tomorrow ill be crying, yes i fear tomorrow ill be crying. Confusion will be my epitaph. As i crawl a cracked and broken path if we make it we can all sit back and laugh. But dont. Bury me moonchild including the dream of an open heart here comes right now. She is susceptible he is impossible they have their cross to share three of a river lonely moonchild dreaming in the hands of fools.