The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Get me through june,

and i promise you a kiss,

help me past july,

and i will grant you a single wish.

Quide me past August,

where the summer begins to wein,

Help me past september,

and i am yours all the same.

get me through the fall,

and I will make your l smile.

Let me live into the winter,

and i will be your sky.

bring me back to summer,

bring me back to june.

let us stay together,

beneith an eternal moon.

Play your violin young minstrel,

plus the strings and play the story out.

each note is a mere day in the life,

of a life that was filled with doubt.

I can fel my hear beat,

as your lay your bow to string,

I can feel the thawing,

i can feel the stirings of a dream.

So play on young master,

your songs of yesteryear,

play on and remind the readers,

of life, of loss, of tears.

If i shut up long enough i can hear things,

I can hear the crack of nuerons,

I can hear my own thoughts as the plot my downfall.

If you were really my friend,

you would satand before me.

car my way into maddness



If you were really my lover,

you would stand behind me.

I wrap me in the safety of your touch.



If you were really my family,

you would walk besides me.

supporting me when my own stregnth failed me.



If I was really worth it,

maybe I could have had any of that.

but in the end i wasnt enough to keep you

Scent of Magnolia

sweet and fresh

then the sudden smell

of burning flesh

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love is closckworks

and cold steel

fingers too numb to feel

squeeze the handle

blow out the candle love is blindness

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Hush

I thought i heard him

call my name

its wasnt so loud

its was so nice and plain

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the moons just went behind the clouds

to hide his face and cry

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Come a littel biut closer

Hear what i have to say

Just like children sleeping

we could dream this night away

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Sickness accompanies a waning moon;

a new moon cures disease.

what is worse oh friend of mine,

to feel real pain,

or to lose your mind.

to feel yourself go from stright to bent,

to feel your drop,

while your wings get wet.

what is worse lost & alone,

when the the first strings snap.

are the oldest of monuments.