I'm the toughest pastry maker who has ever baked a cake.
My impressive little pastries are impossible to break.
Yes, my cookies and my cupcakes will defeat the strongest jaws,
while my muffins are impervious to power drills and saws.
You have never seen a danish or a donut quite so strong
and I bake the fiercest fruitcake that has ever come along.
You can chew on them till doomsday, you can chew till kingdom come,
but you'll never get a nibble, not a solitary crumb.
You can whack them with a hammer, you can hit them with a stick.
You can stab them with a dagger, you can beat them with a brick.
You can drop them from an airplane, you can blast them with a bomb
but my pastries will exhibit only peacefulness and calm.
I expect you'll want to test them. I encourage you to try,
but you'll never make a mark on them and here's the reason why:
I do something with my recipes no other bakers do;
when the cookbook calls for "milk" or "water," I use Crazy Glue.
My impressive little pastries are impossible to break.
Yes, my cookies and my cupcakes will defeat the strongest jaws,
while my muffins are impervious to power drills and saws.
You have never seen a danish or a donut quite so strong
and I bake the fiercest fruitcake that has ever come along.
You can chew on them till doomsday, you can chew till kingdom come,
but you'll never get a nibble, not a solitary crumb.
You can whack them with a hammer, you can hit them with a stick.
You can stab them with a dagger, you can beat them with a brick.
You can drop them from an airplane, you can blast them with a bomb
but my pastries will exhibit only peacefulness and calm.
I expect you'll want to test them. I encourage you to try,
but you'll never make a mark on them and here's the reason why:
I do something with my recipes no other bakers do;
when the cookbook calls for "milk" or "water," I use Crazy Glue.
I feel lost,
I feel so different,
I know everyone around me,
but I don't seem to know any of the faces I see,
I don't know if it's just my hallucinations or my daydreaming,
I just don't know and yet kind of don't care,
I'm different from everyone and they judge me,
I know I'm weird, strange, and crazy,
But that's one of the great things about me,
I'm different and I'll deal with that my own self,
I'm not a typical popular girl,
but I'm not a backstabber either,
I'm a special different than they say,
I'm my own self and I pag-ibig to be different,
Make fun of me cause know I don't care
I'm different and I pag-ibig that because I don't
wanna be the same, I don't want to go with the flow,
I'm not like that. It's okay to different and I am.
I feel so different,
I know everyone around me,
but I don't seem to know any of the faces I see,
I don't know if it's just my hallucinations or my daydreaming,
I just don't know and yet kind of don't care,
I'm different from everyone and they judge me,
I know I'm weird, strange, and crazy,
But that's one of the great things about me,
I'm different and I'll deal with that my own self,
I'm not a typical popular girl,
but I'm not a backstabber either,
I'm a special different than they say,
I'm my own self and I pag-ibig to be different,
Make fun of me cause know I don't care
I'm different and I pag-ibig that because I don't
wanna be the same, I don't want to go with the flow,
I'm not like that. It's okay to different and I am.
From childhood's oras I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same pinagmulan I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My puso to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the ulap that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
"What of the dews of dawn,
Love's flower, what end is theirs ?"
"And what of spirits flown,
The souls whereon doth close
The tomb's mouth unawares ?"
The Rose sinabi to the Grave.
The Rose said, "In the shade
From the dawn's tears is made
A perfume faint and strange,
Amber and honey sweet."
"And all the spirits fleet
Do suffer a sky-change,
madami strangely than the dew,
To God's own mga kerubin new,"
The Grave sinabi to the Rose.
*****************************************************
LA TOMBE DIT A LA ROSE
La tombe dit à la rose :
"Des pleurs dont l'aube t'arrose
Que fais-tu, fleur des amours ?"
La rose dit à la tombe :
"Que fais-tu de ce qui tombe
Dans ton gouffre ouvert toujours ?"
La rose dit : "Tombeau sombre,
De ces pleurs je fais dans l'ombre
Un parfum d'ambre et de miel."
La tombe dit : " Fleur plaintive,
De chaque âme qui m'arrive
Je fais un ange du ciel !"
My nostril smells awesome inside of my nose,
a bit like the bloom of a newly-picked rose.
It started this morning--I couldn't say why--
and all araw it's smelled like saging cream pie.
It has the aroma of freshly-baked bread
with hot melted mantikilya and lumboy spread,
and maybe the breeze of a warm afternoon,
that follows a thunderstorm early in June.
It smells like a pine forest, right sa pamamagitan ng a lake,
and tsokolate chip cookies my mom likes to bake,
like kettle mais pop-popping over a fire,
and laundry, the moment it's out of the dryer.
My nostril smells awesome, so I have a plan
to sit and enjoy it as long as I can.
Don't ask how it happened; I really can't say.
Perhaps it's my finger that's smelling this way.
a bit like the bloom of a newly-picked rose.
It started this morning--I couldn't say why--
and all araw it's smelled like saging cream pie.
It has the aroma of freshly-baked bread
with hot melted mantikilya and lumboy spread,
and maybe the breeze of a warm afternoon,
that follows a thunderstorm early in June.
It smells like a pine forest, right sa pamamagitan ng a lake,
and tsokolate chip cookies my mom likes to bake,
like kettle mais pop-popping over a fire,
and laundry, the moment it's out of the dryer.
My nostril smells awesome, so I have a plan
to sit and enjoy it as long as I can.
Don't ask how it happened; I really can't say.
Perhaps it's my finger that's smelling this way.
The monochrome scenery in the dead of night
A pearly-white mist to blind your sight
Immortal chains to bind your soul
Immortal chains to set your goal.
Silence has set upon your life
Bestowed upon you like a cursed knife.
You must have knowledge through and through.
The segundo World is haunting you.
Let your sorrows be set in stone
Carved down to the edge, to the skin, to the bone.
Let your sorrows be put to rest
And let them guide you along your quest.
I'll dance with you inside layered light
On jewels and gemstones shining bright.
You must have knowledge of what to do.
The segundo World is haunting you.
A pearly-white mist to blind your sight
Immortal chains to bind your soul
Immortal chains to set your goal.
Silence has set upon your life
Bestowed upon you like a cursed knife.
You must have knowledge through and through.
The segundo World is haunting you.
Let your sorrows be set in stone
Carved down to the edge, to the skin, to the bone.
Let your sorrows be put to rest
And let them guide you along your quest.
I'll dance with you inside layered light
On jewels and gemstones shining bright.
You must have knowledge of what to do.
The segundo World is haunting you.
the world can takes overload
take my last breath, before i
inhel the semtums of death, before
i shed my last tear for help, my death
is calling in the hand of my friends.
my life has fallen deeper from my hands
to my feet i'm crawing can't speak,being
on tuktok makes you weak with a foney smile
down to the ground, one of my mga kaibigan is pulling
me down till i can't even make a sound.
I need help but me and God
both know that their is
nobody around.
somethimes darkness will never
fall down........
