Last Exile Gear
04-22-2004, 08:38 PM
Havent thought of title yet. Wrote this about an hour ago. I dont right poetry very often as yiu can see.
The race is on the run
Capturing people
Turning them to ash
Making them believe they have a chance
Pouring false hopes into the pot holes of their minds
Money makes the world go 'round
As they say
Life isnt life without it
So run they say, run
Try and make it in this world
Greed is all that matters
Keep up the pace or die like the rest
Stay the course, and you may be glorious
Surpass the rest and you will die rich
Cause isnt that all that matters?
When the day ends, and the sun rests
Isnt money the only truth?
So start running
Your already behind
Your 17 and no job?
How will you ever fix your unhappiness?
How will you fill those voids in your life
With no material possesions?
Arent they right?
Isnt that what we're all trying to do?
Cover the frailties with items
The race is on the run
Better get started or you may be content
And they cant have that...
So, any good? Or am I just as bad as all those gothic losers in my school who always right suicide inuendo poems
The race is on the run
Capturing people
Turning them to ash
Making them believe they have a chance
Pouring false hopes into the pot holes of their minds
Money makes the world go 'round
As they say
Life isnt life without it
So run they say, run
Try and make it in this world
Greed is all that matters
Keep up the pace or die like the rest
Stay the course, and you may be glorious
Surpass the rest and you will die rich
Cause isnt that all that matters?
When the day ends, and the sun rests
Isnt money the only truth?
So start running
Your already behind
Your 17 and no job?
How will you ever fix your unhappiness?
How will you fill those voids in your life
With no material possesions?
Arent they right?
Isnt that what we're all trying to do?
Cover the frailties with items
The race is on the run
Better get started or you may be content
And they cant have that...
So, any good? Or am I just as bad as all those gothic losers in my school who always right suicide inuendo poems