My life is junk,
I was a punk.
I lived in Central Park.
My wife left me for my best friend,
I could kill her for a happy end.
But I left her live,
To tortured him.
She was a nice looking girl,
But she came from the hell.
I understood it very well.
My last girlfriend was a weird girl,
She looked like a living death,
But was not bad at all.
She could find money to buy a little bit of crack,
She talked so funny like a little insect.
We found her dead.
She was a victim of Maniac.
She could not bring to him his portion of crack.
She was not the first who got killed by his hand.
But for us her death was the beginning of the end.
A night was cold and it was very dark.
That night was killed a tyrant Maniac.
Maniac
© Copyright: Hartford, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103081600220
Свидетельство о публикации №103081600220
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