* The Philisophical Significance Of Shooting My Sister In The Face: An Essay By James Secord
My name is James Secord Everything was gone With this bullet In my sister's face Maybe then they Won't hear the screams Pull the trigger The mirror hurts us, the music notes That wonder how they won't be Times are hard enough Without days like these If you cry hard enough Maybe they'll hear your screams Lifeless and splattered red I put a bullet in my sister's head Nothing now I won't be, won't be 'Cause I am back again Black cats, red dogs Breakfast, rapist Rough bread, not dead Goodbye, rapist God damn me With a simple bullet The shit is simple You left a dead bullet Everything is, everything is dull, gone, gone Is dull
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