Night song
Wounded face-down on the groundLosing all that she had found She swears she’ll never breathe againAs she picks it up for one last time… again Cold dirt pressed into vacant eyesStinging but she doesn’t cryHe covers her with tender words“Poor thing”, among the laughter that she heardHer thoughts roam with no end in mindAimless footsteps of the blindHe points towards the emptinessAnd takes her there with him at her requestWounded face-down on the groundBruising everyone she crownedShe vows she’ll never breathe againAs she picks it up just one last time… again Written October 9th, 2001 © on Oct 09 2001 02:41 PM PST 20 • 0 • 10
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"Wounded face-down on the groundLosing all that she had found She swears she’ll never breathe againAs she picks it up for one last time… again Cold dirt pressed into vacant eyesStinging but she doesn’t cryHe covers her with tender words“Poor thing”, among the laughter that she heardHer thoughts roam with no end in mindAimless footsteps of the blindHe points towards the emptinessAnd takes her there with him at her requestWounded face-down on the groundBruising everyone she crownedShe vows she’ll never breathe againAs she picks it up just one last time… again..."