this is my diary screaming out loud --

[pasogal2]

As if the veil between the two cities had been sliced with a subtle knife, the journey to New York never seemed to take any time at all. Nestled in the first class cabin, Shannon's mouth twitched faintly whenever she caught a nearby passenger passing a curious glance towards the slender book she had brought along to shield herself from Samantha's constant chatter. The kingpins of the business world were unused to seeing a woman indulging in such heavy reading. Though it was doubtful that Shannon actually absorbed any of the theories and history contained within those thin pages; her mind was a million miles away, recalling the details of an unsettling conversation.

Aside from the occasional hum of acknowledgement, she was saved from having to make any conversation at all until they had slipped through the glass doors of JFK airport with their luggage in tow. The car waiting for them was gleaming like freshly polished onyx in the mid-afternoon sunlight and Shannon offered the portly driver a polite smile before turning to slant a glance over her shoulder towards her assistant, raising a hand to push her sunglasses up towards the crown of her head.

"Samantha?"

"Yes?" In the process of pushing the small handle down on her suitcase, she glanced upwards with a curious arch of a brow.

"Don't forget to send those flowers to Celia's dressing room, hm? I want to thank her for saving those tickets.."

"Oh of course." Samantha smiled warmly before sliding into the car after the artist, settling her purse onto her lap in order to search for her blackberry.

"And I need you to see if you can find the address of someone for me.." Shannon trailed off for a moment, distracted by the movement of cars in the lane beside them.

"Oh?"

"Uh-- yes. Her name is Naomi.... I'm not sure about the last name. Maybe Brande. I believe she lives here in New York."

Returning her attention to the tinted window, she could not help but remember an old nursery rhyme: curiosity killed the cat.

[pasogal2]

The room was rather nondescript and it caused the skin on the back of her neck to prickle while a thread of unease washed through her, like a wave crashing against the shore. There were no pictures scattered about to distract them, no scenes of teenage melodrama occurring on the sidewalks to keep their attention firmly trained on the large bay windows (was that really the best placement for natural lighting? She didn't think so -- but it's not her studio). No, there was nothing for this collection of burgeoning artists and creative thinkers to focus on besides the small wooden stool settled in the center of the room and the delicate figure settled upon it.

There was something about the way they stared at her that made her wary while she gave the usual speech about inspiration, artistic integrity, and (most importantly) how to keep from starving while living the dream. She was used to the short attention span of this generation, the rambling path their eyes would take around the room, the way they would discreetly slip a hand into their pockets to check their phones for messages. She was not, however, prepared for the way a few of them stared at her as if she were some mythical creature, as if she were divine.

"....And that's really all I can say about that," she finished with a weak smile, eyes narrowing slightly when she noticed how many of the audience appeared to actually still be listening. Surely she wasn't that interesting? "Any questions?" she continued while snaking a hand out to grab the water bottle the center had provided for her.

"Did you really date Cash Collins?" The young girl's voice was clear and eager.

"What?" Shannon nearly choked on her water.

"Cash Collins? The, you know, the Hollywood director? Well -- it was on Google," she said, tone indicating that Google had become as trustworthy a source as the Encyclopedia Britannica.

"Nn--no," she replied, raising a hand to wipe a few stray droplets off of her chin. "Mr. Collins and I were acquainted a few years ago, but it was... purely professional I assure you. If you see him I would love it if you would pass along my 'hello.'"

The soft rumble of laughter from the rest of the crowd caused her mouth to twitch and she turned her attention to the next person with their hand raised. A pointed arch of her brow indicated that the person should speak.


<center> -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- </center>

"Cash Collins? Cash Collins?!" Shannon repeated, her low drawl nearing a shrill note while she angled into the backseat of the car, glaring at Samantha as if she believed she was to blame.

"I know! I know, I know," Samantha winced while following her into the car, closing the door carefully behind them. "He was in one of those teen magazines recently, talking about his latest film."

"And what, he mentioned me?" She turned her head to stare at her incredulously.

"Well, n--no. He mentioned something about how he loved working in the South and that he was starting to take a real interest in art.."

"And so that means I'm dating him?"

"No, no. I'm sure he wasn't even thinking of you. The reporter certainly didn't mention you. I'm sure that girl just found the articles leftover from the Cosmo shoot and such," she said, choosing her words carefully. The artist had been rather easy to set off recently and Samantha had no desire to spark another outburst.

"This is why I should've sworn off men," she muttered, folding her arms over her chest and staring out the window.

"...Does that mean that I should cancel your dinner with Paulo tonight?"

Shannon's glare was devastatingly icy.

"Er, right," Samantha mumbled, cringing away from Shannon until the artist turned her head to stare out the window once more. "I -- uh, well .. I wasn't able to find a record of a Naomi Brande in New York--"

"She's in New York."

"...Well, maybe she has a different name? You said that Brande was hi--"

"W--something," Shannon narrowed her eyes while she stared out the window, memories dancing before her eyes. Hospital, the counter, the speculative way the nurse eyed her while she filled out the preliminary paperwork for Aden. His next of kin is listed as a Naomi W--

"Weiss," she said suddenly.

"Hm?"

"It's Naomi Weiss."

[pasogal2]

A scrap of paper was held tightly in her hand as she angled out of the cab and she turned her head to glance about the street curiously for a moment. It looked like any other street in Queen's, as did the brick apartment building nestled in front of her, and yet she seemed to be searching for something. Some sign that something awful had happened here once upon a time -- or any indication that she was on the right path.


"Please forgive me," she murmured, "I know not what I do."

She was lucky enough to reach the door just as someone else was exiting and slipped inside before it could close. Drifting down the hallway, she felt the brush of memories licking along her frame, dancing before her eyes like ribbons caught by a midafternoon breeze. But they were not her memories --

"Mmph!" The impact rocked her back a step or two and she glanced up to see the surprised face of a man who was too young to wear the lines she was picturing in her mind, though the coarse strands of his hair were just as disheveled. His blue eyes blended with yellow in her mind, before the sound of his voice brought her back to reality.

"Y'okay?" He offered her a curious glance, mouth quirking slightly.

"I -- yes. Sorry about that," she murmured with a faint smile before shifting that he could continue on by her.

Checking the scrap of paper in her hand once more, she pushed onwards down the hallway in the direction of the stairs.


<center></center>

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ June 30, 2008 10:04 AM: Message edited by: urban addictions ]</font>

[pasogal2]

"What are those?"

"Hm?"

There was a rustle of paper and tissue as Shannon freed the tiny plastic loops from her wrists, letting the collection of shopping bags tumble to the floor. The need for some retail therapy had caught her as soon as she had raced from Naomi's worn door, away from the vision of Aden's past that had haunted the doorstep when she had knocked.

"I -- I -- I'm so sorry, I think I have the wrong apartment," Shannon had stammered before turning on a heel and rushing for the stairs without a second glance. She lingered on the stairs for a moment, waiting for the sound of Naomi's confused murmur and the soft thud of the door slamming shut, before finally making her escape from the apartment building.

"What are those?" Shannon said again, waving a hand towards the fresh flowers that were nestled on the small table near the entrance to her suite.

"Oh." Samantha flushed a little, eyeing the bouquet as if she had forgotten all about them. "They're from Paulo. He was disappointed about not having dinner last night."

Shannon resisted the urge to roll her eyes while the image of Paulo's old world charm and classic Italian looks flashed through her mind, along with the memory of how many single women lived within the boundaries of Manhattan. "He'll live," she decided.

"Did you ... take care of all of your errands?" Samantha pressed while studying the collection of designer bags scattered about Shannon's feet.

"Uh -- not exactly." Shannon's smile turned subtly sheepish before she twisted her wrist to check the face of her tiny silver watch. "Well, why won't you ring for room service while I pack all of this away? We'll have to leave for the airport soon."

"Mm, of course." Samantha eased towards the hotel room's phone before a memory caused her to pause. "Oh, Shannon?"

"Hm?" Shannon was already knee-deep in tissue paper, hunting for the first treasure buried within the confines of a bag.

"That ...lawyer called. He wanted to remind you of your appointment later." Samantha was unable to keep from showing a sign of the distaste she felt whenever she thought of the lawyer with possible (probable) ties to the mafia. What on earth could Shannon be doing with him?

"Ah." Shannon's mouth curled upwards in a wry smile. And then, "Samantha?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ever make deals with a devil."

"Yes, ma'am."

[pasogal2]

<center>Let's rearrange;
I wish you were a stranger so I could disengage.
Just say that we agree and then never change;
Soften a bit until we all just get along.
But that's disregard,
Find another friend and you discard.
As you lose the argument in a cable car
Hanging above as the canyon comes between --</center>

Shannon's mouth curled into a faint grimace as the sound of the radio filled the interior of the Jeep; she was unable to keep from scanning her memory banks for a situation in which to apply the lyrics too, forced to make it personal. Though she monitored the speed limit far more closely than Aden ever could, she still found herself slamming on the brakes with unnecessary force when her attention span had drifted away and she risked tapping the rear fender of the car in front of her.

The morning haze had yet to be burned away by the sun and the expensive parade of cars traveling down the thoroughfare created a dull tapestry against the bright displays that filled various windows of the designer storefronts. With a caustic expression, she found herself forced to slide into the valet spot in front of the store Aden had taken her to the day before. Tossing her keys to the man, she murmured graciously before rounding the vehicle in order to step onto the sidewalk.


"God, what a jerk," she murmured while surveying the scandalous outfits that clung to the plastic frames of the mannequins from over the rim of her sunglasses. With a shake of her head, she turned to slip inside the doorway to Versace, a low chuckle leaking from the corner of her mouth.

"Shannon, darling!" Frederico crooned when he saw her coast through the open door, interrupting her gracious conversation with the sales person who had held the door for her in order to play European with the application of a kiss to each of her cheeks.

"Well, hello." An amused hum greeted the affection and she allowed Frederico to hook an arm about her elbow, towing her further into the store.

"What are you shopping for? You look fabulous by the way," he said while ticking a glance along her frame with an admiring gleam in his chocolate gaze. "You really are a classy broad."

"Why thank you, darling."

"So what are you looking for today? I've already set aside some things for you... There are some very sophisticated pieces in our current line, you know," he reminded her while steering her towards the back of the store.

"Hm, really?" Shannon allowed herself to be towed along by the force of Frederico's enthusiasm, before the purpose behind her current mission flashed in her mind. "Actually, Frederico, I'm in need of something a little less .. sophisticated."

"Really?"

"Yes... something along the lines of what you would pick out for Lola, I think." She tapped a finger against her chin while she mulled it over, pivoting slightly to survey a nearby wall display. "It will have to be rather scandalous, I'm afraid."

"Well, I'm sure we can find just the thing!"

"Oh and Frederico, darling? It's going to be billed to this address." She removed a slender, elegant business card form the confines of her clutch, inspecting the printed words with a faint curl to her mouth before handing it over to him.

He inspected it curiously before staring at Shannon with wide, admiring eyes. "Girl!"

Shannon weathered his rambling compliments and thinly-veiled inneundos with a smug, yet thoroughly resigned, smile.

She might as well enjoy being bound to that devil.

[pasogal2]

<center>


Step one: You say, "We need to talk."
He walks; you say, "Sit down, it's just a talk."
He smiles politely back at you,
You stare politely right on through.
Some sort of window to your right;
As he goes left, and you stay right.
Between the lines of fear and blame,
You begin to wonder why you came.

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend --
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.

Let him know that you know best,
Cause after all you do know best.
Try to slip past his defense,
Without granting innocence.
Lay down a list of what is wrong,
The things you've told him all along,
And pray to God he hears you,
And pray to God he hears you.

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend --
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life.

As he begins to raise his voice,
You lower yours and grant him one last choice.
Drive until you lose the road,
Or break with the ones you've followed.
He will do one of two things:
He will admit to everything,
Or he'll say he's just not the same,
And you'll begin to wonder why you came.

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend --
Somewhere along in the bitterness.
And I would have stayed up with you all night,
Had I known how to save a life. </center>

(lyrics by the fray.)

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ July 02, 2008 03:33 PM: Message edited by: urban addictions ]</font>

[pasogal2]

He had a child.

I don't know why this is important, but it is.

Even this morning, surrounded by eggs and pancakes, and all of the other things I made for breakfast, I felt my eyes wander towards that hidden door in the foyer. Heard myself promise to help Persephone with anymore dusting that needed to be done once I was finished, as long as he was still asleep, so that I could sneak another glimpse at that album. Stare at that painting some more.

This is really getting out of hand.

But I can't keep from remembering. I have to do this. I'll find a way to keep these secrets.


I have to.



<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ July 04, 2008 02:47 PM: Message edited by: urban addictions ]</font>

[pasogal2]

<center>

She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette.
She broke his heart; he spent his whole life tryin' to forget.
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time,
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind.
Until the night...</center>

"Do you want a drink?" Flushed with the excitement of their unexpected dash through the city, her cheeks were blooming with color and her eyes were fever-bright. Palming the front of her t-shirt, she pulled it away from the front of her body to keep it from sticking to the sweat coating her skin, knocking a glance over her shoulder towards the bar entrance.

"Nah," he murmured, panting softly while he scanned the alley they had just spilled out of, listening for the sound of any pursuit. Apparently satisfied with what he heard, he turned back to face her with a boyish grin, coasting forward to catch her hand. "I got everythin' we need for a party right here," he informed her while dragging her hand down to the confines of his pocket, letting her fingertips brush against the clear plastic bag tucked inside.

"I -- oh." Blushing again at his impertinence, she was in the process of reclaiming control of her hand when she felt the plastic. "No, I don't do that," she said, rather stiffly, shaking loose from his grasping fingers while she stepped back.

"Mm, s'too bad," he purred while drawing closer; the smug grin was too mature, too knowing for his youthful face. "What's your name, baby?"

"Sh--Shannon," she whispered. His breath tickled the skin below her ear.

"I'm Sutton." Braceleting her wrist with his fingers, he began to tow her towards the door. "C'mon, let's have a beer."

<center>He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger,
And finally drank away her memory.
Life is short, but this time it was bigger,
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees.
We found him with his face down in the pillow,
With a note that said I'll love her till I die.
And when we buried him beneath the willow,
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby. </center>

She had never done drugs in her life, but she felt on fire when she drank in the richness of his breath, tasted the scent of foreign substances on her tongue. Lights pulsated before her eyes and there was a syrupy sweetness that saturated her skin, lingering like a trail of breadcrumbs in the wake of his questing mouth. His hands fit themselves to the sharp curl of her hips, nails digging in to leave half-moon crescents on her alabaster skin. Her hands skimmed along the plane of his stomach as he shifted her further back on the counter, deliberately raking her nails over the other names that had been branded there; scratching out the memory of her former rivals.

"I want you," he growled into the hollow of her throat.

"I know," she purred, wild with the side effects of her contact high.

"I love you," he continued, forcing himself inside of her, driving deeper and deeper as if he could find the very center of her being. Rip away the veil that separated them. "I fuckin' love you."

"I know," she whispered, lashes lifting to allow her to stare at the ceiling, teeth scraping along the plush line of her bottom lip.

"You love me," he growled, his body pushing harder against her as if he was going to punish her for the hesitation; he would force her to believe it one way or another. "I know you love me." Fervently he worked her, injuring her insides with the force of his determined conquest.

With a gasp she buried her face against his shoulder, letting the melody of her cries coax him past the point where speech was possible.

<center>The rumors flew, but nobody know how much she blamed herself.
For years and years, she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath.
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time,
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind.
Until the night...
</center>

"Did you take your medicine?"

He bristled at the sound of her voice, shoulders tensing before he knocked a glance over his shoulder at her. Without a word, he returned his attention to the view lingering outside the small window above the sink.

"Sutton, you know you have to take them." She sighed, unable to keep the resigned edge from creeping into her voice as she braced herself for another battle. Drifting to the cabinet, she removed a few pill bottles and shook out the necessary dosage of each with a methodical precision. "You know the doctor said --"

"I think it's time we had a kid."

The pill bottle slipped from numb fingers, scattering pills all over the counter. "Shit," she hissed, setting aside the collection in her hand before moving to scoop the pills back into their bottle.

"Leave it," he said, turning about to face her. "Goddamnit, Shannon, would you stop for one second and talk to me?" He shouted, springing forward to catch her hands, to force her to look at him.

"It's not the right time," she said, repeating the same excuse she used every time they had this argument.

"Are you kidding me? Shannon, we don't have time!" He bit out ferociously, sweeping a hand over the collection of pills to scatter them all over the floor.

"You don't know that," she murmured while breaking away from him to kneel down on the floor, carefully picking up the pills and piling them into her palm.

"Stop it. Stop cleaning."

"I can't -- Loki might get one by mistake."

He breathed out a sigh, palming his face before stooping down to help clean up. "Shannon, we have to talk about this. I know you think we aren't ready, but --"

"Not now, Sutton. In a little while. When you're better."

He growled with frustration. "Shannon, don't you get it? I'm not getting better. Now, I want us to try and have a baby --"

"I can't! I can't, I'm sorry but I can't!" She pressed her lips together to keep from crying.

"You can't or you won't?" Sharply.

"You know that I can't, I told you --"

"That's bullshit! You know we could find someone to fix in you two seconds, Shannon." He paused, settling a hand on her shoulder to force her to bring her eyes up to his face. "Shannon, baby, all I dream about is a little girl with curly dark hair and blue eyes. That's all I fuckin' dream about! We have to try, baby. We have to."

She recoiled away from the solutions he was forcing down her throat. The mental images of her clutching an infant to her chest while mourners passed by his coffin, murmuring words of sympathy into her ear, flashed before her eyes and she shook her head, swiping at her wet cheeks with a free hand.

"I can't. I can't," she whispered.

He growled again in frustration before pushing to his feet, grabbing his keys from off of the table with a jerky motion.

"Where are you going?" She stared up at him with wide eyes.

"Out." He said curtly before slamming the door with the force of his departure.

<center>She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger,
And finally drank away his memory.
Life is short, but this time it was bigger,
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees.
We found her with her face down in the pillow,
Clinging to his picture for dear life.
We laid her next to him beneath the willow,
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby.</center>

"Who's that?" Jacob asked while peering over his mother's shoulder at the page of the scrapbook she had turned to.

"Hm? Oh .. just someone mommy used to know, baby," she said with a faint smile. "You hungry, sweetheart? I think it's about time for dinner."

He grinned and rushed from the living room. Shannon breathed a soft sigh while watching him go before dropping her attention to the sketch of Sutton, brushing her fingertips over the youthful lines of his face.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered before slamming the scrapbook shut.


<center></center>

(lyrics are by brad paisley.)

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ July 04, 2008 01:49 PM: Message edited by: urban addictions ]</font>

[pasogal2]

The long table was coated with the lingering relics of a battle that had already been fought: plates coated with leftover bits of food, crumbs scattered about the wood varnish, empty glasses with faint smears along the bottom swell to hint at the liquor that had been housed within their delicate shells. The darkening sky cast faint shadows upon the walls, their greedy fingers stretching along the table as if they would be interested in finishing off the spread. Cream-colored drapes fluttered against the window and the sound of the wind's faint howl was a soothing note, blending in with the background noise bubbling over from the parlor just beyond the door that was cracked upon, just a touch.

Fingers curled about the strand of pearls that were elegantly noosed about the delicate column of her throat and a few stray strands of her straight, mousy hair fluttered in the faint breeze as she eased through the dining room, picking up a few abandoned plates to stack them neatly on the stretch of her forearm, her slippers whispering silently as they walked along the thick white carpet. Nudging the door open with a sharp push of her shoulder, she slipped into the elegant parlor and let her gaze pan over the room, taking note of where her family had settled themselves while they enjoyed the time left to them before it was time to seek out the shelter of their bedrooms.

Bjorn, golden and vibrantly alive, was settled on the sofa, and slanted a glance upwards at the sophisticated figure of Serena as she lounged on the arm beside him, her fingers tangled in his hair intimately, before returning his attention to the quiet conversation he was enjoying with Sutton. The youth seemed far older than the fragile age at which he had departed this world, with faint lines crinkling the skin around his crass mouth and sharp eyes. His hair had grown out, the coarse strands coated in a heavy dose of dishevelment, and there was an air of purpose to the motions of his hands as he gestured along with the flow of words spilling from his wicked mouth. A hand skimmed along the front of his jacket in a sinuous glide as the seductive frame of Jill came into view, lowering herself down over the back of the sofa in order to let her serpent's tongue slip out, testing the air before she purred something into the shell of Sutton's ear. The adder's eyes were no longer coated in the thick smears of liner and elegant decay; they were thin slits and sharply black.

Her attention shifted to the fireplace where Payton was nestled upon an ottoman, her girlish figure draped in white and a pair of sneakers were nestled on the carpet before her, left behind so as to allow her to draw her legs up and tuck her feet beneath her. Her Stargazer's eyes were fever-bright against the fluttering motions of the flames behind her head and the colors cast an odd halo about her alabaster face. Her mouth was curled subtly, as if she were toying with the idea of smiling, and her head was tipped up just slightly into the eager fingers of Jacob as he played with her ink-stained hair.

The Raven was there. Lounging against the wall with a sardonic gleam in his dark eyes, he accepted a lighter from Christian, raising it upwards in order to light his cigar while listening to the young entrepreneur's speech. Christian appeared to be paper-thin, fleeting and hazy around the edges, like the wisps of smoke leaking slowly from the Raven's mouth.

Persephone was nestled on the floor next to the coffee table, her fingers wringing at her handkerchief tightly while she fretted over the fate of her chess army; the white pieces mixed in with the black hinted that the game was more than halfway through. Her pinafore was cornflower blue and freshly pressed and her face was vibrantly expressive, brows pinched together and her mouth pursing gently. Syemon was a show of casual disarray, his tie loosened and the first few buttons of his crisp shirt were left unbuttoned. His suit coat had been abandoned long ago (if he had ever deigned to wear it at all) and his sleeves were hastily shoved back to bracelet his elbows while he leaned forward to move his knight, accepting Persephone's horrified gasp when he claimed her favorite pawn with that boyish grin that never failed to charm; her sweet Alice and beloved Cheshire cat.

In turn, each pair of eyes meet her gaze before returning to their business and she drifted away from them in order to slip into the kitchen. When something touched the counter before her stomach should have even been close to contact, she glanced down to see the swell of her pregnant stomach and the plates clattered into the sink noisily as she gasped. Her eyes flashed up to seek out her reflection in the glass door of the nearest cabinet and she met the reflected face of the tense, subtly glowing Naomi with a horrified expression.

"Disaster." Samael's voice was a sibilant hiss as she appeared in the glass from a place just behind Shan--Naomi's left shoulder.

"Disaster," another voice agreed from off to her right and she turned her face in order to meet the disapproving stare of a petulant Mercedes. Her fey eyes were glowingly amber in the soft light of the kitchen and she was settled on the counter in the lounging pose of an adolescent, the frilly gauze of her dress clinging to her frail, delicate frame. Her head tipped back and her laughter sounded like the sweet notes of a lullaby for a moment before she narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth with a snarl --

Shannon came to with a start, pressing a hand to her collar to calm her pounding heart while her unfocused gaze skittered about wildly. The muscles of her neck ached in a silent protest as the lip of a shelf bite into her skin, helping her orient herself in the cramped quarters of his tiny lab. She had fallen asleep while leaning against the bookcase during the small break she had taken from the restoration, it seemed, and she glanced up towards the ceiling when the sound of faint footsteps caught her attention. The tools she had been using were still scattered about the floor near the painting, along with the scrapbooks that she had idly leafed through before fatigue had unexpectedly claimed her.

Panting softly, she passed a glance down towards the picture of the pregnant Naomi before slamming the scrapbook shut and shoving it far away from her. Taking a few deep breaths to calm her racing pulse, she tipped her head back against the shelf and met the eyes of Mercedes; the yellow stare seemed to be even more enthralling now that the fine layer of dust had been removed from their surface.

"Disaster," she whispered on the tail end of another panting breath.

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ July 05, 2008 02:19 PM: Message edited by: urban addictions ]</font>

[pasogal2]

<center>It's the perfect time of night,
To be losing your clothes now.
If you carefully take them off,
Then I'll carefully show you how.
In a minute we'll be gone,
So we might as well just fuck.
'Cause the churches they're all filled,
Empty prayers are out of luck.


You're not yourself, you're not yourself tonight.
You've got your life, now get yourself in mine.
You won't be sad, you won't be satisfied.


It's the perfect time of night,
To be losing your mind now.
As the curtains finally fall,
Will you kindly take your bow?
So love our time, don't waste your life.
It's the perfect time of night,
To be losing your clothes.


You're not yourself, you're not yourself tonight.
You've got your life, now get yourself in mine.
You won't be sad, but you won't be satisfied.


Are you here? So much fear.
It's the first time you need.
It's the first time you bleed.

I'll wait for you in the back of my car,
Lets find out who you really are.
I'll never change if you want me to,
You better change if I ask you.
So tell me what is the matter with this?
They say it starts with just one kiss;
We're never gonna be here again.


You lost yourself, you lost yourself tonight.
You've got your life, now get yourself in mine.
You won't be sad, but you won't be satisfied.


</center>

(lyrics by ryan star.)