No more pain
For me, just run
Away, to take a gasoline,
And shining rain
Whispering me, that I should burn.
Burn for nothing.
Someone must tell,
When child's born,
To parents, that their child
Trapped in living hell.
Take care of your sons,
'Cause people became wild.
Flesheating time
Behind our back
Killing us for pleasure.
Up to nine
Feet choke my neck,
Death is my only treasure.
Living hell
© Copyright: Бобби Ноктюрнал, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112061108836
Свидетельство о публикации №112061108836
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