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His hands are in his pockets and his foot is in the door
A cigarette clings to his lips as a body hits the floor
The gun in his hand is silver and new
Stolen from some cold grasp,
His intent to prove
Calling from the east
Is a cry of a maiden
Calling from the west is a familiar breeze
He’s headed home to his haven
Leaving behind a world he isn’t set to please
Oh Mr.Sun
His rays and dulled and he hate everyone
He cannot feel the warmth anymore
He keeps his ammo in his pocket and his eyes on the door
He used to have a lass that, would follow him around
What happened to her you asked
It wasn’t safe with Mr. sun, it is all not games and fun
Blood trickle from her dainty mouth
Her eyes glazed over as his heart turned inside out
And oh
Calling from the east
Is a cry of a maiden
Calling from the west is a familiar breeze
He’s headed home to his haven
Leaving behind a world he isn’t set to please
He’s Mr.Sun
His rays and dulled and he hate everyone
He cannot feel the warmth anymore
He keeps his ammo in his pocket and his eyes on the door
Calling from the east
Is a cry of a maiden
 Turts · Sat Mar 24, 2012 @ 07:25am · 0 Comments |
