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Smooth wooden handle 6 inches, nearly 10 when flicked open to reveal stainless steel The blade marred only by a few oily fingerprints and a speck of brown It smells of dust and of dried blood
What a beautiful weapon she is. She's the sharpest edge and the prettiest sight, The softest, sweetest bringer of night, And all with a teasing kiss. What a beautiful, beautiful weapon she is.
We are the unfortunate ones, The ones forged by ash and claimed by fire, The ones whose whispers they hear as they dance through the blood red sky,
Holding back, No longer allowing slack Pulling in the reigns On this issue that is causing me so much pain If I could create a world, would color be in it?
I run in the ice I run for the sun The frost did follow I was the only one I thought if I keep going And I don't make a stand It'll all mean nothing No matter how far I ran
You want an idea of human rights,but are you ready to listen to the fights.Listen, listen carefully to my rhymes,about the absurd things occurring in prime time.You know about these absentees,
Cold metal is no longer terror, ‘Till cold metal becomes warm, Cold metal is her weakness, Yet a friend that always warns.
Bang, bang. No sleeping tonight. The Sand Man won't come, No child will dream. Blasphemy on sight.
In one minute many things can happen choices are made deals are done decisions are reached and life changes irreparably
Whole room grew quiet as your mother cried. "He's been killed," they said, "execution style." She'd just found out her first-born son had died, Crime scene so gruesome and bloody and vile.
I wish my phone would ring I call home, waiting alone, dial tone screams my mind's cold behind this blindfold of space and time I can't escape it I'm waiting and like a fine rope this line holds
The destruction it leaves the people who grieve Is it worth it to have a weapon that leaves people so sad? We need them to hunt we need them to survive but some people just have them