Dried up angels don’t dance here, baby
Have some conviction, and believe in me.
It looks like raisins with wings, I know.
Have some trust, and believe in me.
The winds were strong, doesn’t mean a thing.
Have some confidence, and believe in me.
Tickles in all the wrong places.
Imagination and grumpy faces.
Have some faith, and believe in me.
Tender intent, callused conversations.
Believe my words in the face of a storm.
Have some belief, believe in me.
| Heh. Well, the title intrigued me. It was more abstract anger than anything else, though. However, I would keep "it looks like raisins with wings" because it's lovely description. |
|| Posted on 2006-11-25 00:00:00 | by Melora | [ Reply to This ] || my belief in focused entirely on the fact that pain is attributed solely to your absense, the physical bonds that connect these ligaments to bone, these thoughts to cold metal, I have always believed that you are everything, you are the perfectly materialized living breathing grape, and I got the word juicy in my mind now..can't stop thinking about it..lol||| Posted on 2006-11-26 00:00:00 | by Reckoner | [ Reply to This ] |