"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."
--Bilbo Baggins
It's probably not the MOST surreal thing I've heard, but it's definitely a mind twister the first time you hear it. The most surreal thing I've heard is probably a line from any given Nightwish song to date. Such as this snippet from the middle of the song:
--Bilbo Baggins
It's probably not the MOST surreal thing I've heard, but it's definitely a mind twister the first time you hear it. The most surreal thing I've heard is probably a line from any given Nightwish song to date. Such as this snippet from the middle of the song:
"I?m afraid. I'm so afraid.
Being raped again and again and again.
I know I will die alone.
But loved.
"You live long enough to hear the sound of guns
Long enough to find yourself screaming every night
long enough to see your friends betray you.
"For years have I been strapped unto this altar
Now I only have three minutes and counting
I just wish the tide would catch me first
And give me a death
I always longed for"
Second robber to the right of Christ
Cut in half - infanticide
The world will rejoice today
As the crows feast on the rotting poet
Everyone must bury their own
No pack to bury the heart of stone
Now he's home in Hell, serves him well
Slain by the bell, tolling for his farewell
The morning dawned upon this altar
Remains of the dark passion play
Performed by his friends without shame
Spitting on his grave as they came
Being raped again and again and again.
I know I will die alone.
But loved.
"You live long enough to hear the sound of guns
Long enough to find yourself screaming every night
long enough to see your friends betray you.
"For years have I been strapped unto this altar
Now I only have three minutes and counting
I just wish the tide would catch me first
And give me a death
I always longed for"
Second robber to the right of Christ
Cut in half - infanticide
The world will rejoice today
As the crows feast on the rotting poet
Everyone must bury their own
No pack to bury the heart of stone
Now he's home in Hell, serves him well
Slain by the bell, tolling for his farewell
The morning dawned upon this altar
Remains of the dark passion play
Performed by his friends without shame
Spitting on his grave as they came