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in one word
Folder:
whole lotta other stuff
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after disaster they make excuses I mean we are only human while dirty money always makes for the repetition of broken hearts when the clouds drift by or should I say they fly or do they float and look like a boat
the gray clouds sinister smiles, on a face in shadows cast radiation against brick walls
onto brittle leaves nothing is forever
forever is not forever nothing turns into 35,000 year old half life people carrying torches when they do not have lanterns when they do not have flashlights people are searching for people searching for freedom only to find anguish
from the dark forces
the smart bombs are a scalpel in the hand of a coalition pilot greed |
