M / Minsk / The Plains Of San Augustin
Head bowed irreverently with the cold blade resting on my neck. Quiet time, tow the line, a time and place for everything. "There is a season," "a time to die," and the word games end as the clock thunders by, and the rain sears this pain as my streams keep running dry. Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |