You can tell from the scars on my arms and the cracks in my hips and the dents in my car and the blisters on my lips that im not the carefullest of girls. You can tell from the glass on the floor and the strings that are breaking (and i keep on breaking more) and it looks like im shaking but its just the temperature and then again if it were any colder i could disengage. if i were any older i would act my age, but i dont think that you'd believe me. i am not so serious, this passion is a plagiarism, i might join your century but only on a rare occasion. i am the girl anachronism. and you can tell by the red in my eyes and the bruises on my thighs and the knots in my hair and the bathtub full of flies that i'm not right now at all. there i go again pretending that i'll fall, don't call the doctors cause they've seen it all before - they'll say just let her crash and burn, she'll learn - the attention just encourages her.
In a Past Life...
You Were: A Diseased Belly Dancer.
Where You Lived: Romania.
How You Died: Decapitation.
Who Were You In a Past Life?
Rock is Dead
Its your fault
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