Go To Hell Part One
Truth falls delicately from my bones,
the core of me is beautiful,
the shell is not so easy to love.
Not everyone "gets" our music,
but I do,
every beat is my heart.
I blow your speakers.
Our voices are broken.
My cymbals are waves, crashing on beaches of memories.
The drums are a thunder, made louder by my bass,
it takes me lower than I care to go.
It is the cymbals that I love,
their waves wash me clean,
but some things never wash away;
tales best kept for a darker day.
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