CupidSilverFlames
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No one know it's you, Miss Jackson. Well, that might be because it's Nine In The Afternoon, and I Write Sins Not Tragedies. Maybe you should try to see things from a New Perspective. Did you know The Only Difference Between Martyrdom And Suicide Is Press Coverage? Or that Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Off Her Clothes? This Is Gospel, you know.
I think you'll Welcome To The Black Parade, because of all those Teenagers. Or Na Na Na because of Helena. It's because I'm Not Okay, and I Don't Love You, or else I'd repeat those Famous Last Words that Mama told me. Too bad she's Dead! She died of Cancer and maybe This Is How I Disappear. Or maybe we can dance in the Summertime once more before Those Kids From Yesterday get me. They are Demolition Lovers, you know. Some of The Sharpest Lives come from Blood and The Ghost Of You, by the way. I can still see The Light Behind Your Eyes when you smile.
I don't want you to think of me as an American Idiot, especially on Holiday. I am such a Basket Case, so Wake Me Up When September Ends. Good Riddance, not yet! I'll probably go and walk the Boulevard Of Broken Dreams while waiting for my 21 Guns. When I Come Around, you'll be Welcome To Paradise, or maybe you'll have a 21st Century Breakdown and become one of The Forgotten. Warning: I Fought The Law before, and I'm not afraid to Kill The DJ. -CupidSilverFlames
