I am young, and I'm in love. Post-apocalyptic? Sure. But it's something I'm working on.
Equipped with a bible and a rifle, I should be fine with this holiness on my side. But what's the good in a god by my side when the devil creeps around my neck like a snake?
We march in the damnation parade. We're cast, ill-starred in an operatic gun ballet. I apologize.
I have prior affairs I've arranged, I have a date with the gallows and I can't be late.
I don't care much for your advice, this drink here is rather convincing, but your horns and tail tell me otherwise.
So I'm getting the hell out of here. The stench of deceit is far too much to bare.
And when we dance, oh how we'll dance like a conflux of crows. Like wolves, I can't help but lick my lips at the thought of biting into your skin and tasting grace.
Oh, god what I'd give to feel the slightest bit alive again.
Temptation has a killer body.
That boy's got the devil inside him.
[Edited by yosup, 10/27/2012 3:27:18 AM]
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