Thursday, September 16, 2010

Branches of O.

Over liberty, I'd take death
If you'd just give me something to clean up this mess
That had become of me

I was shattered, laying on my side
So alone, I had tried
To overcome the suffering

But I let the branches of O. dig at my soul
I only continued to stoke the fire and shovel in more coal
I wouldn't give up because I couldn't control myself
You had put spell on me and in your witchcraft I would delve

To that forest I would go
To pick the bluebells where they grow
Just for you darling

It's not my fault you were what I craved
Cool air always rolls off graves
Why are cemeteries always so cold

I let the branches of O. dig at my soul
I only continued to stoke the fire and shovel in more coal
I wouldn't give up because I couldn't control myself
You had put spell on me and in your witchcraft I would delve

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