And my load is all the things we know
remember it’s always free from view
Bleeding inside while I walk across the room
the music plays, of how the day is made
She rides electric glides, he looks on
and tho I know around we go, still it no
Here is pathed in graves the rich engraved,
still the price paid we all end the same
and all what was spoke, it ends the same
No comments:
Post a Comment