
My mind, it shatters like a thousand shards of shattery glass.
The dark pit of my soul festers like some old fruit that's been rotting in the dark sun.
Tiny spiders scuttle around the dark dark of my nighttime soul. Aaaauuwww! Aaaaauuugghgh!
The screams of the Banshees prevent me from enjoying my Lucky Charms...
( ,
Sat 30 Apr 2005, 0:39,
archived)
The dark pit of my soul festers like some old fruit that's been rotting in the dark sun.
Tiny spiders scuttle around the dark dark of my nighttime soul. Aaaauuwww! Aaaaauuugghgh!
The screams of the Banshees prevent me from enjoying my Lucky Charms...