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Quotes about slit

Slit the wrist and let it flow.

Hate and pain, feelin’ it in my veins.
Hate and pain etched in my mind.
Love and hate are all the same,
Life and death are all our problems, but you treat them as there mine.

Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !

Life and death are all the same in my mind.
Life and death are all the same,
Play with fire and get burned.
Accusations flying my way, will they ever stop?

Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Slit the wrist and let it flow.

Life and death are all the same.
Life and death, when will it end?
Anger and frustration all boiling to the top.
Vengeance and Violence seems to be the only way.

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The Little Slit in the Tail

I’M GLAD that the Bushmen can’t see me now
A-doing it tall in the town;
I’ve an inch-brimmed hat on my sun-burnt brow—
And my collar jumps up and down.
I’m wearing a vest that would charm a snake,
And a tie like a lost soul’s wail;
And I’m dressed in a coat of the latest make,
With a little slit in the tail:
With a little slit in the tail of it,
With a little slit in the tail.

My pants alone are a thing of joy,
And they’re built to show my bends,
With a crease behind and a crease before,
And a little curl in the ends.
I carry my nose-rag in my cuff,
And the lot should get me gaol—
I paid five guineas for my rig-out,
And one for the slit in the tail:
For the little slit in the tail of it,

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Slit My throat

Tears are stained
against my cheeks
blood is gashed agaisnt the walls
all i have to say is slit my throat and lay me to sleep

I want out of this crule harsh world
everyone is mean to me
they hurt me
beat me
and make fun of me

Most of the time though
they end up hurting me
so as i cry out into the night
i want my last words to be
slit my throat and lay me to sleep

Lay me to sleep,
killme,
murder me,

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Fatalist

If you gave me what I wanted,
All the time.
You would not be on my mind...
Doubted.

If you gave me what I wanted,
All the time.
You would not be on my mind...
Doubted.

How can I be the one demanding,
If I'm there at your command?
You should have no questions about it,
To doubt it.

How can I be the one demanding,
If I'm there at your command?
You should have no questions about it,
To doubt it.

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The Scythians

You are but millions. Our unnumbered nations
Are as the sands upon the sounding shore.
We are the Scythians! We are the slit-eyed Asians!
Try to wage war with us-you'll try no more!

You've had whole centuries. We-a single hour.
Like serfs obedient to their feudal lord,
We've held the shield between two hostile powers-
Old Europe and the barbarous Mongol horde.

Your ancient forge has hammered down the ages,
Drowning the distant avalanche's roar.
Messina, Lisbon-these, you thought, were pages
In some strange book of legendary lore.

Full centuries long you've watched our Eastern lands,
Fished for our pearls and bartered them for grain;
Made mockery of us, while you laid your plans
And oiled your cannon for the great campaign.

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The Ode of Tarafah

A young gazelle there is in the tribe, dark-lipped, fruit-shaking,

flaunting a double necklace of pearls and topazes,

holding aloof, with the herd grazing in the lush thicket,

nibbling the tips of the arak-fruit, wrapped in her cloak.

Her dark lips part in a smile, teeth like a comomile

on a moist hillock shining amid the virgin sands,

whitened as it were by the sun's rays, all but her gums

that are smeared with colyrium -- she gnaws not against them;

a face as though the sun had loosed his mantle upon it,

pure of hue, with not a wrinkle to mar it.

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Thanks A Lot

Its all in your mind she said
The darkness and the light
The clock it bleeds for you
But you never got the time in right
I woke you up
And I slit the throat of your confidence
And we laughed in the night
And I felt all right
All hands on deck boys
Cause this ship was made to sink
Your swabber salutes you now
But I know what hes thinking
I woke you up
And I slit the throat of your confidence
And we laughed in the night
And I felt all right
Thanks a lot
Thanks a lot
Thanks a lot
The clothes she wears mis-fit

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Eurotrash

We are nothing but Eurotrash
We take Plastic we take Cash
We are selling an image
Everything must go
I want you to know
You don't want the side effects
You wanna .com
Need simulated sex
We're selling you heaven
Prices down to a low
I thought you should know
It's all in your head
You're living a lie
There is nothing
Money can't buy
We are nothing but Eurotrash
We take Plastic and we take Cash
We sell our hearts second class
We slit our throats on tinted glass
We're silicon stitches

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Tarafa

The tent lines these of Kháula in stone--stricken Tháhmadi.
See where the fire has touched them, dyed dark as the hands of her.
'Twas here thy friends consoled thee that day with thee comforting,
cried; Not of grief, thou faint--heart! Men die not thus easily.
Ay, here the howdahs passed thee at day--dawn, how royally!
stood for the Dédi pastures: a white fleet they seemed to thee,
Ships tall--rigged from Adáuli--of Yámin the build of them--
wandering wide the night through, to meet at the sunrising.
Thus climbed they the long wave--lines, their prows set how loftily!
ploughing the drifted ridges, sand heaped by the sandseers.

Alas for the dark--lipped one, the maid of the topazes,
hardly yet grown a woman, sweet fruit--picking loiterer!
A girl, a fawn still fawnless, which browses the thorn--bushes,
close to the doe--herd feeding, aloof in the long valleys.
I see her mouth--slit smiling, her teeth,--nay, a camomile
white on the white sand blooming and moist with the night--showers.
Sun--steeped it is, pure argent, white all but the lips of her,
these are too darkly painted to shrink from the sunburning.
The face of her how joyous, the day's robe enfolding her,

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Up Scoble

Scobble for whoredom whips his wife and cries
He'll slit her nose; but blubbering she replies,
"Good sir, make no more cuts i' th' outward skin,
One slit's enough to let adultery in.

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