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.