Lighting comes as a flash of light.
Thunder comes in a boom of might.
The wind howl's like a wolf in the night.
The rain comes down as a roar of fright.
These are the sacred sounds of a stormy night.
They mix together like a Werewolves bite.
They would make a superstitious person die of fright.
These are the sacred sounds of a storm in the night.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
What is the point of having friends if they do nothing but treat you like a fucking slave? All they do is break around and wait you to jump every time they call. I would rather be alone with my cats there truly enjoys your company. Most of the time I feel like that I am that toy in the back of the dresser that accumulate dust, but is brushed and played with of every once and a while because the toys are busy. would prefer to be on my own then with a bunch of fakes.