::
2003 23 October :: 9.28 pm
:: Music: pinback
The gears grinding
with the fire still burning in her eyes.
Her lips are murderers
slowly decaying am i,
falling fast into this grave we've dug for ourselves.
One could only hope this love wouldn't fall apart.
So vain we were as it shattered before our eyes.
i picked up the pieces, trying to hold onto what wasn't there.
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