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03:59am | Apr 20, '09 |
Comments(5)Black and blue and red all over and over again.
Someone peel it back so I can see beauty underneath my skin,
I'd pluck chords and tendons like strings, a concerto of sharp pain,
Beautiful in its own way,
At least that's what some say.
It's like trying to explain a kaleidoscope to a blind man,
I can't lay out an image on a riveted braille plan,
But when I'm dead and gone please let it be said,
That his sins were scarlet, but his books were read.