We've all got <br />horns really, <br /> <br />that's something <br />you have to accept <br />internally and infernally, <br /> <br />that the demons <br />in all of us, <br /> <br />are just, <br /> <br />goodness with <br />a questionable crust, <br /> <br />here ignite <br />your halo of light, <br />preying red, <br /> <br />you'll have to <br />dig up the dead <br />person you once were, <br /> <br />and kick it, <br />beat it - whip it, <br /> <br />realise that everything <br />that you once were is dead! <br />stone, immobile, <br /> <br />just some flashing images running along <br />a hall, <br /> <br />echoing.... <br /> <br />sometimes your affections are all wrong, <br /> <br />in fact most of you, <br />are not even affected <br />at all, <br /> <br />your just sponge <br />seeping up all the crap <br />they throw at you, <br /> <br />and to get tears... <br /> <br />they have to wring you, <br />bring you, <br />back from the brink, <br /> <br />with all the material <br />that they defend as - <br /> <br />'out of this world! '<br /><br />GRANT FRASER<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/out-of-this-world-10/
