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martes, 3 de mayo de 2011

Viejos amores mueren dificílmente, viejas mentiras mueren aun más dificílmente.

Publicado por RomanDraiman ~ en 2:50

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¿Que te pareció este blog?

Mierda! Esto duele; no voy a mentir; no importa cuanto lo intente.

LA MITAD DE LAS PALABRAS NO SIGNIFICAN N A D A.

& se que no estarè satisfecho.

No es mi intencion arrastrar esto màs ; pero parece que no puedo dejarte ir. No quiero que enfrentes este mundo sola.

Theanimal.~

We begin the hunt and I
Feel the power course
As the creatures take flight
For the kill is close

And I will be satisfieeeed;

For the smell of fear tonight
Wakes an ancient lust
That will not be denied..

YOU'RE MINE!

Beauty of the Beast.

Trees have dropped their leaves,
Clouds their waters
All this burden is killing me
Distance is covering your way,
Tears your memory
All this beauty is killing me;
Oh, do you care,
I still feel for you
Oh, so aware,
What should be lost is there
I fear I will never, never find anyone
I know my greatest pain is yet to come
Will we find each other in the dark
My long lost love
Oh, do you care,
I still feel for you

Oh, so aware,
What should be lost is there
Safely away from the world
In a dream, timeless domain
A child, dreamy eyed,
Mother's mirror, father's pride
I wish I could come back to you
Once again feel the rain
Falling inside me
Cleaning all that I've become
My home is far but the rest it lies so close
With my long lost love under the black rose
You told I had the eyes of the wolf
Search them and find the beauty of the beast
All of my songs can only be composed of the greatest of pains
Every single verse can only be born of the greatest of wishes
I wish I had one more night to live
A saint blessed me, drank me deeply
Spitting out the misery in me
Still a sinner rapes a thousand saints
Sharing the same hell with me
Sanest choice in this insane world:
Beware the beast but enjoy the feast he offers;
Sanest choice in this insane world:
Beware the beast but enjoy the feast he offers
All of my songs can only be composed of the greatest of pains
Every single verse can only be born of the greatest of wishes
I wish I had one more night to live
"Oh, sweet Christabel. Share with me your poem.
For I know now, I'm a puppet on this silent stage show.
I'm but a poet who failed his best play.
A Dead Boy, who failed to write an ending
To each of his poems."

RomanDraiman*. Tema Fantástico, S.A.. Con la tecnología de Blogger.