From: Lestat!@yabbs
To: all@yabbs
Subject: soul
Date: Mon Aug  8 12:59:46 1994


it's my soul your talking to, so shut up and have a seat
it's misty out, and I have a small story
take advantage of the opportunity
and so, this it
a Sunday night drive turns into a 
search for your own existence
looking in the mirror, and whistling a small tune
a smile for the world, and a weeping memory
black, so blase, so by yourself
maybe you don't exist, but your blood runs hot
you think your dead, and it began a few moments
ago
lets talk, dad, help me out...tell me
but, no, it's to hurtful, that night
so long ago
a facade of ignorance, a coat of lies
the blu moon rises and you watch through teary eyes
ago
and so I tell you maybe one love began for spite
I loved her soul, and she loved mine, and we cried until
she died...and then I went home to my father, at night
true, I could lie, but then I wouldn't exist anymore
strumming mu guitar, on an old mattress, stained
song bout love, about peace and then he comes in
ago
behind the microphone, I cry, tears of blood...of my selfishness
cheering, only a moment...wide eyed beautiful girls
I could take any, at any time
at night on my bed, a hot body next to mine
to fill my aching soul, and then the rage begins...
not any more...I won't take it
I can't...take it...
bloodreddarkgloomynight
on the streets, hunting a bitch in heat
and I scream bloody murder, laugh, take a swig
I few moments in time, maybe I'll die
I hope so