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::sadistic,bloodshed,death:: / Tuesday, July 19, 2005


Bloodshed. Death. Sadist. [Play]

That is Love
See the father standing at his cottage door,
watching the baby in the gitter rolling o'er
Laughing at his merry pranks, but hark! A roar!
Help! Oh, help him! Gracious Heav'n above!
Dashing down the road comes a maddened horse!
Out the father rushes with his resistless force.
Saves the child...but he lies there, a mangled corpse.
Now, that is love! That is love!

Shall I be an Angel, Daddy?
One day a father to his son
Told a sad story, a heart-breaking one,
He took from an album a photo, and said,
'This is your mother, but she's been long dead;
you she has left me to cherish and love,
she is an angel, my child, up above.'
The boy in an instant drew close to his side,
and these are the words that he softly replied...

Shall i be an angel, daddy?
And angel in the sky?
Will i wear golden wings,
and rest in peace on high?
Shall i live forever and ever
with the angels fair?
If i go to heaven, oh! tell me, daddy,
will i see mother there?

The old curiosity shop

'Where is she?' demanded Kit. 'Oh tell me but that -but that, dear master!'
'She is asleep - yonder- in there.'
'Thank God!'
'Ay, thank god! I have prayed to him many and many and many a livelong night, when she has been asleep. She is sleeping soundly, but no wonder. Angel hands have strewn the ground deep with snow so that the lightest footsteps may be lighter yet; and even the birds are dead so that they may not wake her. She used to feed them. The timid things would fly from us. They never flew from her.

Kit had no power to speak. His eyes were filled with tears.

For she was dead. There upon the little bed she lay sat rest. She was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free from trace of pain, so fair to look upon. She was dead. Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell was dead.

Where were the traces of her early cares, her sufferings, her fatigues? All gone. And still her fomer self lay there. Yes. So shall we see the angels in their majesty after death...

Mr. Jones

'There's been an accident!' they said,
'Your's servant's cut in half; he's dead!'
'Indeed!' said mr jones, 'and please
send me the half that's got my keys.'


Bloodshed. Death. Sadist. Me.



/ihopped at
12:58 AM

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