"Country style."
I'm rushing through pines & oaks.
The path is too long & road is empty.
I glide through the lips of the dumb
in the Abyss of worldly cradle.
'No numbers & signs the bus' my name.
My fuel is sorrow and sadness.
I'm crowned with only my fears tonight.
All my dreams are just simple quicksand.
I'm rushing into the Abyss bus.
My blood is just burnt of mercury.
My soul is a kind of rusty soot.
That's whole of my ragged essence.
+VADE+RETRO+SATANAS+
На Автобус идущий в никуда aizek morgan
© Copyright: Харис Сотер, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121082807080
Свидетельство о публикации №121082807080
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