domingo, 9 de mayo de 2010

I drop to the floor like I did before
Stop watching I'm coughing I can't be more
What I want and what I need are a constant war
Like a well full of poison or a rotten core
The blood goes thin, the fever stings
And I shake from the hell that the habits bring
Lay the sick ones down, the bells a ring
Put pennies on the eyes, let the dead men sing

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