My lonely conscience flies away
I want cut my soul to million parts.
If there’s no gods to faith and prey,
Cold wind is in emptiness of hearts.
Your suits are so white and really clean,
But you have a filthy corpse beneath.
Together we read the book of sin.
You like drinking blood? Oh, drink me, please.
No hunters
© Copyright: Дарина Рыжкова, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110061508562
Свидетельство о публикации №110061508562
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