A Poison Tree

vikingred

vikingred

pink floyd
Jun 12, 2011
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I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.




--William Blake
 
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We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do I
A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
You wouldn't get this from any other guy
I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand

CHORUS
Never gonna give you up,
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry,
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

We've known each other for so long
Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it
Inside we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it
And if you ask me how I'm feeling
Don't tell me you're too blind to see (CHORUS)

CHORUSCHORUS
(Ooh give you up)
(Ooh give you up)
(Ooh) never gonna give, never gonna give
(give you up)
(Ooh) never gonna give, never gonna give
(give you up)

We've known each other for so long
Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it
Inside we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it (TO FRONT)

--Rick Astley
 
“Oh my god, swagging in the Ferrari, girl drop that ass,
It’s Soulja Boy’s party … swagged out,
Damn my bracelet look like …
Chain on my neck, swag, tattered like a bitch,
Kim Kardashian, drop it down asses,
Swag on my nuts bitch, meet me at the block, hey …
I got the drop, swag …“

-- Soulja Boy
 
This is a song for the ladies
But fellas listen closely
You don't always have to fuck her hard
In fact sometimes that's not right to do
Sometimes you've got to make some love
And fucking give her some smoochies too
Sometimes ya got to squeeze
Sometimes you've got to say please
Sometime you've got to say hey
I'm gonna Fuck you softly
I'm gonna screw you gently
I'm gonna hump you sweetly
I'm gonna ball you discreetly
And then you say hey I bought you flowers
And then you say wait a minute sally
I think I got somethin in my teeth
Could you get it out for me
That's fucking teamwork
What's your fave posish?
That's cool with me
It's not my favorite
But I'll do it for you
What's your favorite dish?
I'm not gonna cook it
But I'll order it from Zanzibar
And then I'm gonna love you completely
And then I'll fucking fuck you discreetly
And then I'll fucking bone you completely
But then I'm gonna fuck you hard
Hard

- TENACIOUS D
 
Tumble outta bed
And stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition
Yawnin, stretchin, try to come to life
Jump in the shower
And the blood starts pumpin
Out on the streets
The traffic starts jumpin
And folks like me on the job from 9 to 5

Chorus:
Workin 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin
Barely gettin by
Its all takin
And no givin
They just use your mind
And they never give you credit
Its enough to drive you
Crazy if you let it

9 to 5, for service and devotion
You would think that i
Would deserve a fair promotion
Want to move ahead
But the boss wont seem to let me in
I swear sometimes that man is out to get me
Mmmmm...

They let your dream
Just a watch em shatter
Youre just a step
On the boss mans a ladder
But you got dream hell never take away

On the same boat
With a lot of your friends
Waitin for the day
Your shipll come in
And the tides gonna turn
An it's all gonna roll you away

2nd chorus:

Workin 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin
Barely gettin by
Its all takin
And no givin
They just use your mind
And you never get the credit
Its enough to drive you
Crazy if you let it

9 to 5, yeah, they got you where they want you
There's a better life
And you think that I would daunt you
Its a rich mans game
No matter what they call it
And you spend your life
Puttin money in his wollet

3rd chorus:

Workin 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin
Barely gettin by
Its all takin
And no givin
They just use you mind
And they never give you credit
Its enough to drive you
Crazy if you let it

Fade:

9 to 5, yeah, they got you where they want you
There's a better life
And you dream that I would daunt you
Its a rich mans game
No matter what they call it
And you spend your life
Puttin money in his wollet

- PALMER, FLORRIE
 
I have never been so scared in my life. I've found about Project Zalgo. Before you respond with questions, let me tell you that I don't know any of the important answers. I couldn't believe it either when I first read it. Save it, post it everywhere you can. print it up and put it on fucking telephone poles. Email it to your friends. Please, distribute this image as much as you can as fast as you can, word has to get out abou} ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉ ҉̔̕̚̕̚҉ZA ~ L G ҉҉ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘Z̙̜̝̞̟̠̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚# O҉ (for the picture just use any Zalgo picture) ̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚ ҉҉ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ # ̎̏̐̑ ̕̚̕̚ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉҉̔̕̚̕̚҉ ͡҉҉̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ A̎̏̐̑L̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉҉G̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉҉ ̕̚̕̚ ̔̕̚̕̚҉◊ख़҉̵̞ ̒̓̔̕̚ ̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̕̚̕̚ ̡̢̛̗̘̙̜̝ ͡҉O҉ ̵̡̢̢̛̛̛̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟ ̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̊̋̌̍̎ ̏̐̑̒̓ ̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̕̚̕ ̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚ ͡ ͡҉҉ C̓̔̿̿̿̕̚۩◊} O҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚ M͡҉ E҉̔̕̚̕̚҉ S~ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡ ҉҉ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘Z̙̜̝̞̟̠ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚ ~ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡ ҉҉ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘Z̙̜̝̞̟̠ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚ # ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚ ҉҉ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ # ̎̏̐̑ ̕̚̕̚ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉҉̔̕̚̕̚҉ ͡҉҉̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ A̎̏̐̑L̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉҉G̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉҉ ̕̚̕̚ ̔̕̚̕̚҉◊ख़҉̵̞ ̒̓̔̕̚ ̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̕̚̕̚ ̡̢̛̗̘̙̜̝ ͡҉O ҉ ̵̡̢̢̛̛̛̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟ ̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̊̋̌̍̎ ̏̐̑̒̓ ̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̕̚̕ ̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚ ͡ ͡҉҉ ̓̔̿̿̿̕̚۩IT IS◊EATINGMYSOUL} ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉ ҉̔̕̚̕̚҉ ~ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡ ҉҉ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘Z̙̜̝̞̟̠ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚ # ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚ ҉҉ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ # ̎̏̐̑ ̕̚̕̚ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉҉̔̕̚̕̚҉ ͡҉҉̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ A̎̏̐̑L̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉҉G̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉҉ ̕̚̕̚ ̔̕̚̕̚҉◊ख़҉̵̞ ̒̓̔̕̚ ̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̕̚̕̚ ̡̢̛̗̘̙̜̝ ͡҉ZALGO ҉ ̵IS̡̢̢̛THE̛̛̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟ ̠̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓ ̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̕̚̕ ̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚ ͡ ͡҉҉ ̓̔̿̿̿̕̚۩◊} OH GOD ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝ ̞̟̠͇̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕ ̚̕̚͡ ͡҉ ҉̔̕̚̕̚҉ ~ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡ ҉҉ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘Z̙̜̝̞̟̠ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚ # ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚ ҉҉ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ # ̎̏̐̑ ̕̚̕̚ ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉҉̔̕̚̕̚҉ ͡҉҉̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ A̎̏̐̑L̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉҉G̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇ ̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍ ̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ͡҉҉ ̕̚̕̚ ̔̕̚̕̚҉◊ख़҉̵̞ ̒̓̔̕̚ ̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̕̚̕̚ ̡̢̛̗̘̙̜̝ ͡҉O҉ ̵̡̢̢̛̛̛̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟ ̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̊̋̌̍̎ ̏̐̑̒̓ ̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̕̚̕ ̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿̕̚̕̚ ͡ HELP ME͡҉҉ ̓̔̿̿̿̕̚۩◊ H҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̝̞̟̠͇̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̔̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ̒̓̔̕̚E҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̝̞̟̠͇̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̔̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ̒̓̔̕̚C҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̝̞̟̠͇̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̔̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ̒̓̔̕̚O҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̝̞̟̠͇̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̔̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ̒̓̔̕̚M҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̝̞̟̠͇̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̔̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ̒̓̔̕̚E҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̝̞̟̠͇̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̔̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ ̒̓̔̕̚S҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̝̞̟̠͇̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̔̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̕̚̕̚͡ T͖̟̹̦̤̣̦̹̒̌ͥ͑̇͐͊͝o̴͍̼̯̭͓͍̝̰̊͆̌͝ ̟̳͈̝̼ͦͥ͘͡i͇̺̬̭̻ͯͣ͂n̻̳͙̯̜̼͇̿ͮ͛̑v̴̶̪̲̟͕͈̙̋̈́̆̆̾ö̩̻̥͍̟̩̦́k̮͖͚̻͆̉͌ͪ̒̽͆ͬe̴̸͚̹̬͓̠̤͑̋ͯ̔̿ͬͅͅ ̺̻͓̱̤ͨ͊ͧ͒͊t̶̨͔͖̹̼̰͓̻̂̉̈́̿ͮ͝h͉͕̠͈̙̫̲̝̫͛ͩ͟e̝͇̦̹͑̌͜ ̨̥̇͊ḩ̛̦̙̳̳̲͐͞i̪̳͒̔͢v̵ͨ͋ͮ̔̏ͩ҉̥̜͚̭͖e̟̙̣͈̥͒̈̎ͦͅ-̣̳͍͕͋͌͌̂̆͡ͅm̥͉̝͔͓̻̊͗ͩͮ͠ỉ̧͙̬͇͓̇ͧͣ̍ͥṋ̗͙͇͉͕̬͙͙ͭ͑̂̍̇̇͑͐͋d̼̭̆̋ͭ́̅̏̇͘ ̵͍̜͔͙̗̼͚̫̒͊ͯ̇͌̃̈́͟͞r̢ͤ̉̄ͣ͋͏͓́e̷̢͕̠ͮ̈́̆ͅp̡̯̮̲͇͕̩ͧ̇̍̚̕ŗ͇͖̒̎͋ͪͣe̸̴̢͎̖̠̫̪͔̽́̽͛ͅs̹̳͖͉͇̣̻̊ͣͤ̄̌͛̓̚͟e͐ͪ̋̿̓͏̠͚̼̪̣̰ͅn̶͖̖͕̺̠͔̻͈̐ͬͫͫ̑͘t̥̪̤̹͎̹̞ͧ͑ͧ͝͡ͅị̮̩̥̮͙͎̓͑͠ͅn̷̼͔̗͎̩̫͔͊g̶̞̱̝͙̝͙̋́̄͌̅͢͝ ̘͙̮ͫ̉ͪ͢c̟̲͕͕̩̓̎͞ḣ̶̸̩͚̦̬̱̤͔̹͈́̔͐ͤ͡aͭ̃̐̌ͮͦ͏̫̜̣̬̲̙̭͢ò̠̭̖ͥͩ̈́͆̓̈s̴̛͓͓̲̲͋̊͑̐̓ͩͬ͑.͎̳̄͋ ̷̢̹̳͙̹̙͍̙̅̂ͩͧ̾̚I̮̤̪̹̠̾͋̃n̶̺̫͓̲̥̠͔̄́̓ͪ̍͋͢v̡̭͕͙̣ͫ̎ͮ͐̄̇͛̚̕ͅoͬͧ̿ͫ̔̉ͫ̽̚҉͈̦͕k̸̽̎̐͏̱͇͜ḯ҉̵̻̣̫̞̭̳̰͖̬n̷̜͖̞̮̬͈͖͍̿̓͂͛̾͋̽̉͠͝g̡̰̹͌ͨ̆ͬͯ͌ͥ̋̚͡ ̴̨͙̲̪̜ͤͥͤ̉ͫͯ̒̉ẗ̨̬̹̼̯͆̍ͮ̓͘hͬ̽҉̛͓̘̩̯̥̜e͂̏̓̿̍͠҉̣̲̳̮̩͍̕ ͕̼͇̙̪̣̠͈͔ͭͯ̀ͭ͒f͎̗̳͎̥̈́̑͌͛̌̏ͥ͞e̸̡̠͉͓̰̙ͣͭ̈͊̈̐̔̊ḛ̦͕̯̋̒ͭ̇̅̿͡l̶̝͓̳̗̮̻͍̯̋ͨ̅̊̅̾ĭ͕̬̥̥̾ͣ̓n̶̝̞̬̦̄̃g̥̖͇͙̠̽ͬ́ͯ̽ͫ̉ ̳͈̪́͛ͯͫ́ͬͯ̑o͔̰̪̰͒̎ͮ͘͢f͖͓͇̣ͨ͂ͤ̚̕ ̛̘͍̗̣̟̬̼ͥ̓c̵̸͔̩͔̩̫̰̜̐͑̎ͯ̚ͅh̨͙͈̥̉ͫ̈̿͆̔ͣä̧̺̪͔͔̱͓̠̞ͮ̇͒̍̊o̶̴̟̱̻̻͙͂͜s̼̱̣̩̦̺̖͕̈̆͋̒͂ͨͥ̀͞͝.͓̣͎̳͇̤͇̺͗ͩ͆̆̅ͤ͡͝ ̶̬̬̱̟̜̼̓̆͂̽̍ͣ̒͒͢͜Ẅ̧̦́ͩ̚iͫ͒͐͛̿͏̳͕̞̙͝t̺̝̣̥̻͓͂̐̏̍͢h̐́ͨ́͏̶̱̝̮̞͖͓̬ ̶̺͉̓͌̆ͯ̐̍ͤo͓̺̻̪̗̗̓̇ͭ͆ͪ̓̚̕͟ͅͅụ̧̡̠̰̭̒̅̄̒̊ͮ̈́t̞̯͓̲͕̗̹̤ͥ̋ͣ͌ ͖̐̌̑̉͑̉͟o̖̣̖͕ͤ̐͗̍͐͠r̬̃ͧ͌̈̔d̖͔̝̱͎̙͒ͫeͮ̌̔ͪ҉̣̠̰̳r̲̠̠̪̯̙̬̲ͬ̾ͪͪ̅ͥ̚͘.̵̝̜̣̝̙͚ͪ̑̃͆̂͘ ͍̪̼̦̲̰̇͑̋ͥ̓̍͒ͣͦ̕ͅT̴͙͙̱͚̳͕̤̩̈́̏̂ͩ̐ͅh̵̴͔̙̻̺͕̽e̙̗̜̞̓͑ͬ̓ͥͯͧ̂ ̴̲̲ͤͣ̀N͚͍̻̿̒͌̍͆e͕̹͖̊̔̏ͫ̍ͬͥ̚͠z̸̖̦̯̮̠̑p͎̭͂ͦ̇ͬͦ͌͞ḙ͆̆̉̽̉͗r̢̬͔̬͓̺͇͎̬̘̆ͤ́̆̋̕͝dͥͫ̊̾͋ͪͩ̒̐҉̙͇̩͉i͍̙̬̦͙͉͍ͮ͡ͅǎ̸̡̘̩̟̮̫̋̿̇̈́̀n̸̶̜̻̲̝̰̗͙̍̌̓͐̾ͯ̀ ̩̣̻͍͔̩̥̱̈̊̆̎̔̔͑̕h̵̸̝̳̮̫̙̮͖̬̔̂͗̂͞i̴̪͎̖̠͐́̋͌͜͞v̺́̔ͬͨ̉ͅë̬̙̪̞́̈́͐͋̃̒ͩ-̶̳̮̖̳͎̻͓̯̪ͬ̋̄ṃ̡̗̩̩̦ͨͧ͑̽̄͠i͈̭͖̞̫͔͋͑̆̆ͣ͜n͙̠̙̦̫̺̩̐͊̓̐̍̚d̷͓̜͖̪̼͉̟̤͛͑͗̋ ͉ͤͧͦ̄̓̔ͧ̍͑̕͘o̗̦̹̫̹ͭͤf̶̛̖̣̦̯͚̪̞̞ͨ̂̌̃̇̎̐ ̈̐̄̔̾͑͏̵͇̤̰c̠̘̗̹̰̬̱̝̖ͦ̒ͧ̿̌̿͘ḧ̫̙̬͇̳͍͔́̊͒ͮ́͂͡a̫̪͙͎͉̲͎̹͋͆ͮͪ̿ͪ͋o͇͉̒̊ͧ̃̋̈́̈́̀̕s̷͉̘̹̟̺̦̅͌.̵̮̝̠̎̈́̕͞ ̬̹̠͈̫͔͕̓ͭͮ̀̆ͪͅZ̩̻͎͓̯̲̓ͥͫͪ̎ą̹͔̖̖̱͍̥̞́̂̀̈ͭ͂̈̂͛l̨̮ͪ̒͌ͦ̊ͧ̊͛͘͜g̪͔̩̑͆̆̏͛͌ͩ̋ớ̢̳̮̫̬̣͈͔ͨ̽ͧ̔̋.͍̦͇͔̲͓͔̜ͯ͂̆̋́̕ ̡̯͈̺̣̮̙̒͒̀̆ -̷̡͖͖̫̩͎̙͙̖̖̕͟ͅ.̴̶̨̢̭̞̰̯̖̳͍͈̕-̶̨͔͕͓̯̭͕͢,̴̶̳̬͚͔̗̝̗̬-̱͇̬͖̝̩̘̣͓͈̮͜͞͡.̡͜͏̫̲̝͉̦̲̠͚͎̱̪͈̘,̢̧̞̘͙͉͕̬͢-̵̧̱͖̟̬͚̀͡ͅ-̶̖̻̩̠̪̮͘͠͡-̵͔̮̘̘̠͘ͅ-̧̳̖̝̙̫̠̠̭͎̀͘̕ͅ,̙̦̖̯̜̮͎̖͖̰͡.̴̳̤̰̙͜͢,̧̛͏͈̟̟͍̩͓̳̮̙͔͇̩̤̱̱̫ͅ,̙̮͓̠̺̯̦̘̠̦̰̣́̀͢͡͞,̵̡͔̲̭͙͈͓̬̣͉͔̘̻̟͍̖̭͓́͟.̵̢̟̘̼̥͍̥̩,̧̗̞̲͖̟̺̬͜.̷̝̠̝̙̜̱̳̹̯̘̮̞̪͟͞-̶̙͔̺͜,̸̫̤̩̠̘͚͇̞̤̥̮̙͙̳͚͇͓͞-̧̝̘͈̙̖̠̪͕̕̕͟͞-̸̡̝̞͖͜,͏̷͏̳̹̼̬̻̹͍̩̰̗͙ͅ.͠҉̶̖̳͍̠̜͖͓̰̯̩̙̬͇̼̣͉͇͚̥̀,̶̢̟̥͈͈͔͉̞͍͔̻̲͙̬̠̪̀͢ͅ.̮̭͓̻̞̯͖͕̦̼̟̥͕͚͟͜͠,̶̢̪͈̭̣̟̟͖-̨͠͏̴̰̣̥͎̬̠̟̩͉̮̱̠,͢҉҉̦͕͇̲̩̠̗̟́.̶̖͓͎̼̕͞.̛͡͏͖̖̙̩,̷̧̖̫̱͙̕͞-̶̼͉̝̪͍̘̥͘͞ͅ-̵̧̬͉͉͓́͘,̸̵̲̹̰̥͎͖̹͘͡,̨́̀͢҉͓͚̰̮̝̩͚̭̖̳͔̝̠͍̬̥̣.̞͕͕͙̱̰͉͉̙͙̹͘.̷̡͔͚̱͚͈̳͖͟͟͝,҉̶̀҉̘͉̳̱̰̺͉̲̺̭̤́.̶̵͇̱̱̝̮̜̤͍͇̝-̢҉̴҉͖͙̯̬̪̭̺̱̮̳̦̲̙,̴̷̡̺̥̣̫͇͇͕̭̯̲̪̗͟-̧͙̲̬̹͓́͞͞ͅ.̸̷̧̭͖͎͚̺̫̗͞͠-̴̤͖͙̤̭͕̖̀͞,̷̛̺̜̺͕̭͉̠̞̳̞̪̩̬-̷̧̢̟̲̳̖.̛̼̣̗̫̱̤́,̶̦͉͕̩̝̝̬̤̰̣̗͍̘̥̣̝͝-̵̞̳̱͈̱͔-͉̳̠̳͙͕̀́͘͞ͅ-̢̺̬̦̞͍̻̦̯̟̮̜̘͔̀̕-̶̨͓̯͈͙̮̠̬͎̪̠̥͘͠ͅ,̶̺͕̬̪̠̮͉͓̱̟̬͜.̷̟̝̗̞͍͉̞̯͕͖̜͍̯̣͈̰͈͟͞͠ͅ,̸̫͕̯̞̣͡,̛̬̜̰̰̜̻̥̪̙̙̩́͘͟͡,̬̘͓̱̟͞.̷̧̡̜̰̬̱̼͕̱̼̠͈̣̥̖͘,̵͚̯͔̯͍̤͍͠.̡̀͢͏̠̟͖͔͔̻̝̜-̬̫̖̘̰̰͢͡͡,̵̧͚̼̻͍̳̝̖̳̥͞͠-̷̶̛̙͉̲̞͇̫͔͖̼̤̥̘̤̣̰͜-̷̛̛̯̭̙̠̭̰̺͕̖̻̘̥͚͖̙,҉̨̱͔̲͍̤͍̭̞͎͖̠̼̱̪.̷̢̜̗̞̱͔̙̟͟͡,̸͞͏̲͚̫͕̠̪͈̰̝̲͈̻͡.̵̷̪͖̙̼̬̹̬̱͔͔̩̬͖͡ͅ,̸̡̛̳̦̰͖͓̼̖̟͘-̢̧͉̫͈͙̫͍̼̹͓,͏́͟͏̧̺̼̟͈͉̳͉͍̖̘̖.̨͙̣̠̤̥̣̬̺̰͎̮̰͞-̵̀͠҉̡̬͈̫̲͎.̡̨҉̷҉̺̙̣̝͍̼-̝̰̮̤͓̘̱̖̩̥̖̦̫̲̹̹̦̞͜͠,̵̲̺̳̹̩̙̯̹̤̖͎͚̟̺͘͢-̡̛͇̰̲͙̗͟͝.̷̨̫̞̥͇͘,̵̸̯̠̱̳͇̖̮̬̘͈͚̝̟͎́͘͟-̧̟̪̬̬͍̬͉̺͓̱̫̮̖̣̭̖̘͢͞ͅͅ-̜͖̝͍͇̀͟͝-̸̶̨̝̪̬̩̣̱̺̜͖͈̬̳̯̀͝-̛͉̗̩͍͈͔͉̯̭͎̻̥͍̥͚͘͟ͅ,̸̷̜͍͉̫̪͙̱̞̯̞̭͖̳̱͈̣͉͚͞.҉̶̴̶͈̲̖̞̤͙̞̣̣̹̰̙̞̭̟̲͙̀ͅ,̷̡̧͍͇͙͍̞̣̟̞,̻̦̻̯̫̫̣̟̜͈̭͍̺̞͕̭͔̠͘͞͝,̶̧͚͚̠̟͎̘͉͍͎̲͠͡.̴̡͕͚͉͚͓̤͉̣̥̙̹̘̞,̨̡̡̰͍̲͉̀͡.̶̘͕̦̜̮̦͡͡-͖͕͚͍͚̪̺̀͟,̵̭̰̺̺-́͡͏̯̠͙͚̺͍͈͔̮̮͚̝͓͉̺ͅ-̵̥͈̳̙̫̘́,̢̳̙̲͈̱͙̲̲͔̻̝̟͎̣͎͔͈͔͢.͏͙͇̯͍̥̺͕̳̝̳̭̙̪̜̺͟,̧̰̺̗̜͙̪̪͇̘̮̩̘ͅ.̛͖̪̖̞͍̰̙̼̥͇͠,̷̞̱̰̤͙̙̗͕͎̼̕͘-̡͞͏͚͔͍̮͔̗̣̳̭̥͓̩̙͍̟͙͔̻,̕҉̤͔̟͖͢.҉̠͍̦̠̠̱͕̣͎̼̦͉̻̺̺̠.̢͖̲͔̬͔͝,̷̻̲͍͢͠-̴̵̦̺̣̱̗̗̪̺̥͚̹́-̨͔̣͍̹̗͕̝͟,͓̲̣̠̤͇͙͎͔̥͜͝͠,̴̳̝̮̩̗͈̺̲͚̻̖͍̜̀ͅ.̷̤̳̯͍̞͚̮͇͞͡.҉̵͏̶̧̣̘̹͔̗̞̼̼,̷̨̤̰̮̦͓.̀͡͏̦̰̙̗̙̻̜͍̱͎̲̭̗̬̯̥̜̞-̶̷̮̖̗̦̯͉͔̜͢͞,̨͢͢҉͙̝͕̙͉͙̗̘͙ͅ-̨̻̦̻̣̯͘͝.̶͏̡̛̼͎̘̼̰̠̗̗̫͝-̢̮̟̜͕̩̜̳̳̻͕̘͙͍͖̳̖͍͈͠ͅ,͠҉̭͖̪̲͇̟̭͇͎̣͚͙̠͜ͅ-̴̙̰̥̰̪͈̤̙͉͖͠.̴̬̜͈̝̲̯̟͜͠,̵̵̦̘͓̝̝͙-̀̕҉̴̸͉̱̞͎̥̖̻͙͚͎̼͙ͅ-͏̣̝̮̜͔̭͚̻͟͜͡-̶̤͍͓̠̩̫̞͘͜͟ͅ-̷̥̩͚͉̖̬͔͍̘͚͝,̴͕̠̥͍̻̻̻̟͞ͅ.͍͎̫̹̼̹͘͜͜ͅ,̨̯̟̼̙̳̲̪͙̺͖͇͎̪̲̀͡ͅͅ,̴̨̗̤̯͖͞͞,̵̡̩̭̪̱͎͙̮̖́͞.̧̭͙̻͎̣̳̥͙̤͔͖̻̗̞̙̼̩̀́͝,̶̧̼̟̜̱̥̗̜̖͈̠̹́.̸̡̛̤̘̰̬͍̞̥͚̣̖͈̤̗͉͕̫͖-̧̧̰͙̪̮̭̩̹̖͕̺̪͉̙̲̝̲̤̳́̕ͅ,̨͖͈͖̀̀͘-̲͉̝͓͉͇̙͔̖̕͢-̵̶̢͚͉̩̰̘̯̗͖͖̹͕͇̱̩͓̙,̛̼̻̹͚̟̘̻̘̜̙.҉̶̢͖̙̤̼̣̠͙̩̺̱͔͉͍͔̫͎̞̲͚͜,̨͢͏̦̟̲̳̦̣͕͇͚̤͈̝.̷̡̝̘͙̥̮͈̬,̧̨̕͟҉͚̮͉̖͙͉͍͎̟̬-̢̨̬̝̼̝̘̗̟̳̪̼͙̪͚͠,҉̴̟̹̯̙̦̻̞̘̰̀͡͡.̪̼͇̹͍͉͎̰͉̱͔̯̥̞̮̥̳͢͝ͅ -̢̪̩̲̣̣̬͢,͉͇͍̩̪͝͠ͅ.̵͟҉̪̹͚͉̫͙̯̪͉̞͚͎̥̯͖͈̀͘ͅͅ.̶̶͓̠̰͙́͞,͏҉̵҉͇̩͉͉̠͖̫̥̫̘-͟҉̷̨̱̠͔̭̼̮̩̪̳ͅͅ-̧̯̹̖̠̞̼̻̥̪͢͢͟,̸̤̣̳̖͓̥͇̫̜͉͉̪̱̺͓̦̫̣͟,̵҉̪͍̪͚̙̻̰̗̮̱̩̱̳͓.̤͚͓̳͇͖̦̳͈͖̪͉͙͖̺͕̲͙̥̀͡.̨̯̞̞͉͎̤̝̙̜̦͝,̵̲̞͓̠̘̺̠̬̝̙̟̲̺͉̖͟.̴̛̤͇̠͈̫̤̘̪̭̯̘̣͉̥̘́-̸̧̖̻̗̝͙̮̗̲̱̞͚̖̙̖͇̪ͅ,̵̵͙͉͍̩̳͍̖̲͍̰͙͟--̢̪̩̲̣̣̬͢,͉͇͍̩̪͝͠ͅ.̵͟҉̪̹͚͉̫͙̯̪͉̞͚͎̥̯͖͈̀͘ͅͅ.̶̶͓̠̰͙́͞,͏҉̵҉͇̩͉͉̠͖̫̥̫̘-͟҉̷̨̱̠͔̭̼̮̩̪̳ͅͅ-̧̯̹̖̠̞̼̻̥̪͢͢͟,̸̤̣̳̖͓̥͇̫̜͉͉̪̱̺͓̦̫̣͟,̵҉̪͍̪͚̙̻̰̗̮̱̩̱̳͓.̤͚͓̳͇͖̦̳͈͖̪͉͙͖̺͕̲͙̥̀͡-̶̤͍͓̠̩̫̞͘͜͟ͅ-̷̥̩͚͉̖̬͔͍̘͚͝,̴͕̠̥͍̻̻̻̟͞ͅ.͍͎̫̹̼̹͘͜͜ͅ,̨̯̟̼̙̳̲̪͙̺͖͇͎̪̲̀͡ͅͅ,̴̨̗̤̯͖͞͞,̵̡̩̭̪̱͎͙̮̖́͞

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Ĝ̓̋͑ͦA͔̖͈̝ͮ͊L͖̬͕̲͑L̩̹͕̿̆̄ͩḚ̼̟ͧ̉R̺̦̳ͧͤͮY̤̊ About missing Pics

HE COMES


HE COMES


HE COMES
ZALGO_by_Monation.jpg
 
Started from the bottom now we're here
Started from the bottom now my whole team fucking here
Started from the bottom now we're here
Started from the bottom now the whole team here, nigga
Started from the bottom now we're here
Started from the bottom now my whole team here, nigga
Started from the bottom now we're here
Started from the bottom now the whole team fucking here

Drake
 
What are they going to do to me that they haven't done already?
They took away my entire past.
They took away my entire future.
What's left for them to take?

Robert Blake (former "Little Rascals" child star, TV's "Baretta", and acquitted wife killer)
 
It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm
We can roll ourselves over 'cause we're uncomfortable
Oh well, the devil makes us sin
But we like it when we're spinning in his grip

Love is like a sin, my love,
For the ones that feel it the most
Look at her with her eyes like a flame
She will love you like a fly will never love you again

It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm
We can roll ourselves over when we're uncomfortable
Oh well, the devil makes us sin
But we like it when we're spinning in his grip

Love is like a sin, my love,
For the one that feels it the most
Look at her with a smile like a flame
She will love you like a fly will never love you again


~Paradise Circus~​
 
I CELEBRATE myself;
And what I assume you shall assume;
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my Soul;
I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of summer grass.

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the shelves are crowded with perfumes;
I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it;
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of the distillation—it is odorless;
It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it;
I will go to the bank by the wood, and become undisguised and naked;
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.


The smoke of my own breath;
Echoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine;
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs;
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore, and dark-color’d sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn;
The sound of the belch’d words of my voice, words loos’d to the eddies of the wind;
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms;
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag;
The delight alone, or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides;
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.

Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much?
Have you practis’d so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

Stop this day and night with me, and you shall possess the origin of all poems;
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun—( there are millions of suns left; )
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books;
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me:
You shall listen to all sides, and filter them from yourself.

~Walt Whitman
Leaves of Grass
 
Rah, rah, ah, ah, ah
Roma, roma, ma
Gaga, ooh, la, la
Want your bad romance

Rah, rah, ah, ah, ah
Roma, roma, ma
Gaga, ooh la la
Want your bad romance

....

Dis right here is my pretty boy swag,
Pretty boy swag, pretty boy swag, pretty boy swag
Girls on my dick when I pretty boy swag
Girls scream my name when I pretty boy swag
Watch me pretty boy swag, pretty boy swag, pretty boy swag,
Pretty boy swag, pretty boy swag
Girls on my dick when I pretty boy swag
Girl scream my name when I pretty boy swag

.....

And I was like baby, baby, baby, oh
Like baby, baby, baby, no
Like baby, baby, baby, oh
I thought you'd always be mine, mine

Baby, baby, baby, oh
Like baby, baby, baby, no
Like baby, baby, baby, oh
I thought you'd always be mine, mine

.....

(Hey, SoulJa Boy, can I get your autograph?) Yahhh, trick, Yahhh!
(Yo, Arab, I really like you, man) Yahhh, trick, Yahhh!
(Are there any 30 boyz that…) Yah, Yah, trick, yah yahhh!
(Yeah, I was wonderin, can I be on your next…) yahhh, yahhh, trick!

Get out my face, ho
Get out my face, ho
Get out my face, ho
Get out my face, ho
Get out my face, ho
Get out my face, ho
Get out my face, ho
Get out my face (Yahhh!)

.......

You a stupid hoe, you a, you a stupid hoe (x3)
You a stupid hoe, (yeah) you a, you a stupid hoe
You a stupid hoe, you a, you a stupid hoe (stupid, stupid)
You a stupid hoe, you a, you a stupid hoe (stupid, stupid)
You a stupid hoe, you a, you a stupid hoe (stupid, stupid)
(stupid, stupid)

.....
 
"The moon will never lie to anyone.
Be like the moon.
No one hates the moon or wants to kill it.
The moon does not take antidepressants and never gets sent to prison.
The moon never shot a guy in the face and ran away.
The moon has been around a long time and has never tried to rip anyone off.
The moon does not care who you want to touch or what color you are.
The moon treats everyone the same.
The moon never tries to get in on the guest list or use your name to impress others.
Be like the moon.
When others insult or belittle in an attempt to elevate themselves, the moon sits passively and watches, never lowering itself to anything that weak.
The moon is beautiful and bright.
It needs no makeup to look beautiful.
The moon never shoves clouds out of its way so it can be seen.
The moon needs not fame or money to be powerful.
The moon never asks you to go to war to defend it.
Be like the moon."

-Henry Rollins
 
Come on feel the noise
Girls Rock your boys
We'll get wild, wild, wild
Wild, wild, wild

- Twisted Sister
 
Dog goes woof
Cat goes meow
Bird goes tweet
And mouse goes squeek

Cow goes moo
Frog goes croak
And the elephant goes toot

Ducks say quack, fish goes blub
And the seal goes ow ow ow

But there’s one sound - That no one knows
What does the fox say?

Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding
Wa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pow
Hatee-hatee-hatee-ho
Tchoffo-tchoffo-tchoffo-tchoffo-tchoff

Big blue eyes
Pointy nose
Chasing mice
and digging holes

Tiny paws
Up the hill
Suddenly
You're standing still

Your fur is red
So beautiful
Like an angel in disguise

But if you meet
A friendly horse
Will you communicate by mo-o-o-o-orse?
How will you speak to that ho-o-o-o-orse?

What does the fox say?

Tchacha-chacha-chacha-chow
Fra-kaka-kaka-kaka-kow
A-hee-aee ha-hee
A-oo-oo-oo-ooo
What the does the fox say?

The secret of the fox
Ancient mystery
Somewhere deep in the woods
I know you're hiding

What is your sound
Will we ever know?

It’ill always be a mystery
What do you say?

Youre my guardian angel
Hiding in the woods
What is your sound
Will we ever know?
I want to know
 
Daddy Sylvia Plath

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time--
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You--

Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.

If I've killed one man, I've killed two--
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.
 
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