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Take Me Back to December 1989/Dust

You do get it now, right? Not all of us feel good at heart. Some of us dream of destruction. Of violence, of violation. Two funny words that have the vio prefix--violet, too, a beautiful color and flower, the blooming of a bruise on flesh.

Some of us are bad for the hell of it. Others, just don't know any other way. Our lifeblood is all about killing what's around us without remorse and there's a lot of people that find that gross. Death is just a part of it. Don't look away from me.

You haven't seen the dusty winds of those men like I have... the loveless horror tainting the windows, the unspoken words staining the carpet. If the walls could speak they'd tell of them walking out the door without another word.