Beautiful as the Black Keys

A thought that has been running through my head lately when I think of beauty is a piano. When beauty enters my mind I close my eyes. I see a rose atop a piano like in those 'good ol' days' films. A hand that varies from young to old, woman to man, black to white, as if it didn't matter. The hand is playing so many beautiful songs, but the song (notes, rather) that I'm hearing is the hand playing a tune with the high-pitched keys. The fingers are dancing across the keys as if the song could last forever. However, it starts to slow down. I think it needs another hand to give it life. Everything is black and white. Although, the rose is the only thing with color. The rose gives it hope.

There's a Psycho in My Room

She lies there

With her insane thoughts

She has frizzy, brown hair

On her arm, she has a dot (mole, whatever)

She just threw a flower at my eye

Then she bit it and said it didn't taste good

Now she just hit her arm on my drawer, oh my

It's understandable why she's from the hood

My last words I say as I confront my doom

"There's a psycho in my room"

INSPIRED BY: MY PSYCHOTIC FRIEND GOOBER

You're Gonna be Dead

Roses are blue

Violets are Red

Once I'm Done Beating You

You're Gonna be Dead

CREDIT GOES TO: MY CRAZY FRIEND GOOBER

I'm Gonna Beat the Crap Out of You

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I'm gonna go to your house

And beat the living crap out of you!!!!!!!!

CREDIT GOES TO: MY FRIEND GOOBER