Biography of Zog Gascoigne
okay then, i write coz i enjoy it, its like one of my hobbies, i might not always be that good at it but i dont really care. I don't just write poetry, i write stories as well, but as of yet iv only finished 3 and they were all pretty bad, excpet for the one that got me a B for english coursework....that was okay, or at least that's what my english teacher thought. Most, no wait, all of my poetry at the mo is pretty depressing, and i dont think im writing any stories that have a happy ending, that is if any of them get an ending!
Zog Gascoigne's Works:
yeah i wish!
Zog Gascoigne Poems
If for everyone that ever died Their closest loved ones committed suicide. There wouldn’t be anymore deaths by natural causes Or anymore life ending thefts.
If he wins the war someday, Then my body he will slay, Give my mother my sould to take, Nevermore shall i wake.
The Way Things Used To Be
miss the way things used to be, With you and me. The way we talked, The way we laughed,
im laying here on hard cold stone laying here where they left me and im all alone
Sitting in English, And I've only got one wish, To get the hell outta here, So that i can be near,
The old stone wall stands tall, A ghetto to imprison the different. Below it -
Staring at the bridge, Wishing you were flying off it, Wondering why you have to live, When you're never going to profit,
Follow me thy wounded soldier, Body growing ever colder, Down into Satin's pit, For heinous crimes you did commit.
Staring at the sky, Wondering why you lil one had to die, What ever happened? What went wrong?
Three Of Our Best
It was two years today, That three of our best, That three lil lads passed away, Now it’s for them that we live each day.
Going, Going, Gone
You all think im doing OK, But i just act that way, You all think I'm happy, But inside i feel so crappy.
Here we go again, Welcome to the Dragon's Den, I'm lying on the floor, As he staggers in the door,
How Can I?
How can I miss someone I never knew? How can I speak about something I would never do? How can I dream about something that isn’t my dream? How can I hear you if you don’t scream?
There's rain on my windowsill and there's rain in my heart, And all you can do is ask when did it start? I don't need questions and I don't need grief, All I want is some bloody relief!
im laying here
on hard cold stone
laying here where they left me
and im all alone
just me and the stone.
no-one sees me
no-one cares to look
it’s as if ive ceased to be