[ Likewise, to be honest, except for that planning a war part. Squalo hadn't been planning anything. Whether the brainwashing was that strong, or simply happened to play to his vanity just enough for him not to want it to stop. Here, he could be #1 as far as he was concerned, and the idea of settling for anything less still felt alien... most of the time. There were moments, fleeting glimpses where he began to doubt it, but they were still too few and too far in between for now. ]
[ That lowering is beautiful, and he does his best to make his voice sound almost gentle in the next couple of lines, then gradually growing back into its rough, loud self. ]
Still feel it sometimes No cure, no medicine Blood rolls down the blade The rain of requiem --
And it haunts me like a phantom limb Dares to rip your face off on a whim As if life is just a second skin You haunt me like a phantom limb
[ The final verse will send off the feeling of something that's always in the back of your head, nagging, the feeling that something's wrong, something's missing -- and yet you can't put your finger on it, can't connect the name and the face, know something should be there, feel it, and yet... nothingness. ]
no subject
[ That lowering is beautiful, and he does his best to make his voice sound almost gentle in the next couple of lines, then gradually growing back into its rough, loud self. ]
Still feel it sometimes
No cure, no medicine
Blood rolls down the blade
The rain of requiem --
And it haunts me like a phantom limb
Dares to rip your face off on a whim
As if life is just a second skin
You haunt me like a phantom limb
[ The final verse will send off the feeling of something that's always in the back of your head, nagging, the feeling that something's wrong, something's missing -- and yet you can't put your finger on it, can't connect the name and the face, know something should be there, feel it, and yet... nothingness. ]