Morgan
Sep 9th, 2002, 06:04:49 PM
"She is not scared to die
Best things in life drive her to cry
Crucify then learn!
Take so much away from inside you
Makes no sense, you know he can't guide you
He's your freaking shoulder to learn on
Be strong
Sit and watch me burn
She's led to believe that it'd be okay
Scarred in dismay
But times have changed, and so have you
I think I'd rather crucify then learn
Take so much away from inside you
Makes no sense, you know he can't guide you
He's your freaking shoulder to lean on
Be strong!
I'd like to take you down
And show you deep inside my life
My inner working of smell and lack of pride
To touch upon some surface is not for what it seems
And I take away my problems
But only in my dreams!"
The leather-clad teen stepped away from the mic, drawing the plectrum down on the cords hard one last time. Her guitar was black, shining in the flickering lights as the amp faded out. The crowd - comprised mainly of skinheads, punk rockers, and goths - went wild, cheering as the moshpits and headbanging ended. Morgan smirked and lifted up her right hand, her middle and index finger lowered with the thumb folded over, leaving only her pointer and pinky finger up.
"That's a wrap," she muttered to herself as she lifted the guitar up while the strat' slipped over her head. Grabbing onto the end, she walked backstage and set it down on one of the couches. Bob, the band's manager, would take care of it.
Using the stairs, she quickly exited offstage and went down onto the ground with the crowd. Another band had already set up and began to play so no one took notice of her. Their bodies grinded with each other as they worked themselves in a frenzy, sweat glistening off their faces and chests. She looked around for a moment before joining in, loosing herself in the beat.
Best things in life drive her to cry
Crucify then learn!
Take so much away from inside you
Makes no sense, you know he can't guide you
He's your freaking shoulder to learn on
Be strong
Sit and watch me burn
She's led to believe that it'd be okay
Scarred in dismay
But times have changed, and so have you
I think I'd rather crucify then learn
Take so much away from inside you
Makes no sense, you know he can't guide you
He's your freaking shoulder to lean on
Be strong!
I'd like to take you down
And show you deep inside my life
My inner working of smell and lack of pride
To touch upon some surface is not for what it seems
And I take away my problems
But only in my dreams!"
The leather-clad teen stepped away from the mic, drawing the plectrum down on the cords hard one last time. Her guitar was black, shining in the flickering lights as the amp faded out. The crowd - comprised mainly of skinheads, punk rockers, and goths - went wild, cheering as the moshpits and headbanging ended. Morgan smirked and lifted up her right hand, her middle and index finger lowered with the thumb folded over, leaving only her pointer and pinky finger up.
"That's a wrap," she muttered to herself as she lifted the guitar up while the strat' slipped over her head. Grabbing onto the end, she walked backstage and set it down on one of the couches. Bob, the band's manager, would take care of it.
Using the stairs, she quickly exited offstage and went down onto the ground with the crowd. Another band had already set up and began to play so no one took notice of her. Their bodies grinded with each other as they worked themselves in a frenzy, sweat glistening off their faces and chests. She looked around for a moment before joining in, loosing herself in the beat.