APRIL 30, 2006 @ 08:29 AM | NO COMMENTS
1296853
"Dead Men Tell No Tales"
by
The Receiving End Of Sirens
I'll be the salt that resides from the water that drains from your eyes;
The sting that burns your open wounds.
I'll flood the ground. I swear on your grave I'll bury this town,
but not for me, no never for me.
We have tested the buoyancy of loyalty.
You left our lungs for canteens.
You left our ankles for anchors.
We thought your arms were tied behind your back,
but elastic bands tied your hands.
You swim with reckless abandon.
Abandon ship! Mayday! Mayday!
Swim toward shore!
Our captain is overboard!
He punctured holes in the floorboards
to flood the bow just in time to bow out.
He's over bored and overboard.
Left in the wake, we man our own driftwood orphanage,
a second-hand sailor's fleet to flee.
But in the wake, we man our own driftwood orphanage.
Captain is over bored and overboard.
Captain is calling.
And there's nothing you can do when water ruins the maps we drew.
Mayday! Mayday! Save us from this drowning vessel!
I have been in an absolutely foul mood for almost a month now. I have not much talked to anyone in just as long, and I'm entirely okay with that. I would not be good company or
conversation anyway. It is getting very hard to hide my mood swings and pretend to be nice, so I give up.
I have come full circle and found a part of myself that I thought I had finally buried. I don't know why I always have to learn things the hard way, but at least I'm learning.
I am just not cut out for marriage, it muzzled and declawed me.
For the first time in my life I felt I had something to lose, and it scared me to death. Never again, and unlike you it is not just lip service...I mean it. I am resisting every urge to reenlist and go spec ops, I have already gotten several offers from friends at Bragg and Macdill. I just want to feel like I have a purpose again. I am tired of marking time in LEG units and jumping through hoops for rewards...
"Dead Men Tell No Tales"
by
The Receiving End Of Sirens
I'll be the salt that resides from the water that drains from your eyes;
The sting that burns your open wounds.
I'll flood the ground. I swear on your grave I'll bury this town,
but not for me, no never for me.
We have tested the buoyancy of loyalty.
You left our lungs for canteens.
You left our ankles for anchors.
We thought your arms were tied behind your back,
but elastic bands tied your hands.
You swim with reckless abandon.
Abandon ship! Mayday! Mayday!
Swim toward shore!
Our captain is overboard!
He punctured holes in the floorboards
to flood the bow just in time to bow out.
He's over bored and overboard.
Left in the wake, we man our own driftwood orphanage,
a second-hand sailor's fleet to flee.
But in the wake, we man our own driftwood orphanage.
Captain is over bored and overboard.
Captain is calling.
And there's nothing you can do when water ruins the maps we drew.
Mayday! Mayday! Save us from this drowning vessel!
I have been in an absolutely foul mood for almost a month now. I have not much talked to anyone in just as long, and I'm entirely okay with that. I would not be good company or
conversation anyway. It is getting very hard to hide my mood swings and pretend to be nice, so I give up.
I have come full circle and found a part of myself that I thought I had finally buried. I don't know why I always have to learn things the hard way, but at least I'm learning.
I am just not cut out for marriage, it muzzled and declawed me.
For the first time in my life I felt I had something to lose, and it scared me to death. Never again, and unlike you it is not just lip service...I mean it. I am resisting every urge to reenlist and go spec ops, I have already gotten several offers from friends at Bragg and Macdill. I just want to feel like I have a purpose again. I am tired of marking time in LEG units and jumping through hoops for rewards that do not exist.
Epilogue:
Somehow, for now, this skin will have to do.
This is the last night in my body.
James Freeman Kelly 1 September 1953-10 January 2000
David Alan Kelly 3 February 1950-14 October 2005
IPOD
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by
The Receiving End Of Sirens
I'll be the salt that resides from the water that drains from your eyes;
The sting that burns your open wounds.
I'll flood the ground. I swear on your grave I'll bury this town,
but not for me, no never for me.
We have tested the buoyancy of loyalty.
You left our lungs for canteens.
You left our ankles for anchors.
We thought your arms were tied behind your back,
but elastic bands tied your hands.
You swim with reckless abandon.
Abandon ship! Mayday! Mayday!
Swim toward shore!
Our captain is overboard!
He punctured holes in the floorboards
to flood the bow just in time to bow out.
He's over bored and overboard.
Left in the wake, we man our own driftwood orphanage,
a second-hand sailor's fleet to flee.
But in the wake, we man our own driftwood orphanage.
Captain is over bored and overboard.
Captain is calling.
And there's nothing you can do when water ruins the maps we drew.
Mayday! Mayday! Save us from this drowning vessel!
I have been in an absolutely foul mood for almost a month now. I have not much talked to anyone in just as long, and I'm entirely okay with that. I would not be good company or
conversation anyway. It is getting very hard to hide my mood swings and pretend to be nice, so I give up.
I have come full circle and found a part of myself that I thought I had finally buried. I don't know why I always have to learn things the hard way, but at least I'm learning.
I am just not cut out for marriage, it muzzled and declawed me.
For the first time in my life I felt I had something to lose, and it scared me to death. Never again, and unlike you it is not just lip service...I mean it. I am resisting every urge to reenlist and go spec ops, I have already gotten several offers from friends at Bragg and Macdill. I just want to feel like I have a purpose again. I am tired of marking time in LEG units and jumping through hoops for rewards...