Bothering, see everyonemaking fun of someone
I see death in those eyes
they seem to be rotten crap.
I want to be alone,
with someone, that's not it all.
Backing to, it makes me sick
being with them.
I can't sleep
I can't see straight on it
there are words from words they say
spilling out from words they say
Without exceptions a boring life.
Without a special... willing to die.
But why sometimes, is life strange?
Losing your conscienceness
A welfare to be away
from all that people, that are so strange
(fifty guard, Bruno)
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário