You Don't Have To Love Me you don't have to love meYou Don't Have To Love Me by ~avinax3
i can see you're getting tired
of the time and obligation
or the guilt i've laid upon you
i take it all back now
i relinquish everything
i give you all back now
so you don't have to love me
at all.
but believe me when i say
i thought it'd make you happy
i thought i'd make you happy
i want you to be happy
please believe me
when i
say
you don't have to love me
you don't have to love me
at all.
The Reason Jesus said he finishedThe Reason by ~avinax3
What at his birth begun.
But no one knew the reason
There was a war to be won.
Time will tell, He told us.
Time will tell in time.
But what has Time to tell us?
And who is He to time?
The workers work unfinished,
Divinity- obsolete,
The clocks keep on their ticking.
The waiting is never complete.
If Jesus couldn't tell us
The reasons unknown for hell,
Then time should keep its mouth shut:
Not even Time can tell.
Death is a feminine creature Death is a feminine creature.Death is a feminine creature by ~avinax3
She lingers in silence and waits.
She calculates whatll hit hardest.
And that is the form that she takes.
But Death can be kind, can be gentle,
As she waltzes me off life's dance floor.
When the dance gets too hectic and crazy,
She offers herself as my whore.
Yes, Death is elusive and charming.
And cunning and wicked and sweet.
She wears silks of red and of violet,
As she sweeps me right off of my feet.
I've felt the sting o
"what the trees witnessed" Normandy beach was a beautiful land"what the trees witnessed" by ~avinax3
and a beautiful land it shall be,
Once the tears in the sand
are wiped clean from the strand
and the memories purged from the sea.
(Oh the sins of the sons and the daughters
of the heart and the soul and the mind,
All the rampant and mind-numbing slaughters
Giving proof to the truth of mankind.)
I'd like to believe in an Eden brand new
where they sky's not beholden of theives,
And the stars up above
tell a story of love
Not a cold broken record that bleeds.
(Oh the crimes of the mothers and fathers
in their scolding and wounding the young,
Unchanging disabling damage,
Denying the songs they
Lonely 
Sta.sh
