At Nite In Niagra

Poor Hanging head that held the trials of 2, hack away your puppet limbs with whichever sword you choose. Everlasting love came ever last in line. Arise dear downcasted toy, you look so sickly in that shade of green you wear so well. For no reason I am beautiful in beauty's eyes. Sandal straps annoy the softest skin, and the nonexistence without words within. The leg work is killer though you trail, no way am I the fox you want. Restoring these ruins of a town encased in glass, parking like dragsters on a watered down park bench. Press harder to pump water from my lungs, because I think I could take these falls, in a barrel built to topple opposition, in a barrel that has put me in this position. I'm sorry the lights weren't on, I'm sorry the lights weren't on.