May
Sunday 16 January 2011 photo 1/1
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I'd hate to, rain on your parade,
But everything you know is taken by this flood,
You were blind but there's no hope.
Dig a hole but there's no blood,
Who am I to pretend, who am I to recommend there is something less.
Than timelines and whores that drag you back to the floor, and cut your eyes out.
Annons
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