Topic: PT's rant room | |
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Edited by
Pansytilly
on
Wed 02/18/15 09:24 PM
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Edited by
Pansytilly
on
Wed 02/18/15 09:29 PM
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Shape Of My Heart -->> <leon the professional>
He deals the cards as a meditation And those he plays never suspect He doesn't play for the money he wins He don't play for respect He deals the cards to find the answer The sacred geometry of chance The hidden law of a probable outcome The numbers lead a dance I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier I know that the clubs are weapons of war I know that diamonds mean money for this art But that's not the shape of my heart He may play the jack of diamonds He may lay the queen of spades He may conceal a king in his hand While the memory of it fades I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier I know that the clubs are weapons of war I know that diamonds mean money for this art But that's not the shape of my heart And if I told you that I loved you You'd maybe think there's something wrong I'm not a man of too many faces The mask I wear is one Well, those who speak know nothin' And find out to their cost Like those who curse their luck in too many places And those who fear are lost I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier I know that the clubs are weapons of war I know that diamonds mean money for this art But that's not the shape of my heart That's not the shape, the shape of my heart That's not the shape, the shape of my heart |
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Edited by
Pansytilly
on
Fri 02/20/15 10:57 AM
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Edited by
Pansytilly
on
Fri 02/20/15 09:27 PM
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Bedouin profile, Mount Sinai
-mgsmd "PT" |
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<where the streets have no name>
I want to run, I want to hide I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside I want to reach out and touch the flame Where the streets have no name (streets have no name) I want to feel sunlight on my face I see the dust cloud disappear without a trace I want to take shelter from the poison rain Where the streets have no name (streets have no name) ooh Where the streets have no name Where the streets have no name We're still building, then burning down love (Burning down), burning down love And when I go there, I go there with you It's all I can do The cities a flood and our love turns to rust We're beaten and blown by the wind, trampled in dust I'll show you a place high on a desert plain Where the streets have no name (streets have no name) ooh Where the streets have no name Where the streets have no name We’re still building, then burning down love Burning down love And when I go there, I go there with you It's all I can do Where the streets have no name Where the streets have no name We’re still building, then burning down love Burning down love And when I go there, I go there with you It's all I can do |
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open the door !! peaks head into room.... are you still on a rant..lol..
... hearing. the sound of the trigger of a rifle being cocked back.... immediately pulls head out of door closes door behind him self.. and shout out loud while running down the hallway.. .. I can see you're busy I'll come back some other time..lol |
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open the door !! peaks head into room.... are you still on a rant..lol.. ... hearing. the sound of the trigger of a rifle being cocked back.... immediately pulls head out of door closes door behind him self.. and shout out loud while running down the hallway.. .. I can see you're busy I'll come back some other time..lol Here Milo... Here boy...! |
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Mistakes
We were neither too young Nor too old, back then Simple things were all that mattered We didn't ask for much What happened? I had my convictions You had your doubts I wanted to hold off You wanted to hang on What happened? The weight of hesitation Time passing for nothing But the comfort of seeming Together without being What happened? Fear of the unknown Dread of what's ahead Inaction Anger What happened? Tried, again, too much... More than I could bear To give into and take Was a slap and a blow What happened? Letting go Each part and all at once Wasn't easy For either of our reasons... Now my page is blank With a marker in hand I lend you my last eraser For the pencil sketches you still keep on yours -mgsmd "PT" 02/2015 |
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You are a very prolific person.
Whom ever hurt you was a idiot. |
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^ ..
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Oh, idiocy...
Could've been me... rectifications underway No1-- haha Kleenex and milo always welcome here |
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What Goes Around
I once written a story... of a dying grandmother Given a lease on life... by an answered prayer Many were happy... praised God for his grace Except one, too many... because it had been her daughter... I once spread my doubts... of why my faith lie In a God I could not... see, hear, touch nor discern the logic of This may have been normal... but then again, not For my battle was not with him... it was just with me... I once met a man... a criminal, they said His life was unusual... doubtful but fantastic Hard to keep away... secrecy have been made Truth had me bound... a criminal had me saved... I once read a book... contradictory and archaic It gathered much dust... until it begged to be read When I understood... what true hypocrisy was Only then... did I pray it would speak... mgsmd "PT" 02/2015 |
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Edited by
Pansytilly
on
Sat 02/28/15 08:46 PM
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