mardi 9 septembre 2008

Nothing More to say, Nothing really matters in fact.

Sweet child,
You'll see the line that's drawn between the good and the bad,
See the blind man,
He's shooting at the world.
The bullets flying, they're taking toll.
If you've been bad,
Lord I bet you have,
If you've not been hit by flying lead
You'd better close your eyes
You'd better bow your head,
Waiting for the ricochet.

For the Initiate.

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