Recursive and twisted

I took you home
Set you on the glass
I pulled off your wings
Then I laughed

I saw no change in me
It’s like I always had wings
Now I feel nearly dead
I saw no change…

I look at the cross
Then I look away
I give you the gun
Blow me away

No Comments Yet

Все още няма коментари.

RSS коментари TrackBack Identifier URI