Violin Veins

April 5, 2011
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As the strings correlate down to different strings,
Dreams sink into different scenes
The amethyst fountain of devastating pain
Pours the blood from my ripping veins
I grow old without a hand to hold
Lavished in gold, my stolen beat burns cold
This toll wears me out
It's drowning me in the drought
And the withered strings
Loses it's sound.

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