In ancient Palestine, a Roman middle manager Dresses down a radical "I have a backlog of so-called prophets You are of a multitude" The offender said, "I witness truth" Perplexed and filled with pique The jailer replied, "Truth, what is it?"
Outside of Darlington, 1963 On certain mornings a specter appeared In a well-appointed back garden Its voice was still heard After the sun had burned away its image Consulting physicists and mediums The man he realized It was a relative living a 1000 miles away Half sister was thinking of him Very poorly on those mornings
In Northern Michigan There was an incident in winter A horse was hit by lightning And began to speak in a foreign language When he was finally understood It repeated, "Humans are no good" So they shot it behind the shed and stuffed him He's now on display as a lesson For the kids to always do your best Do your best always
Truth is a colicking horse That serves no purpose Truth is a babbling prisoner You'd rather not kill if they confess Truth is the half sister That will not be forgotten Truth is the half sister That will not forgive
She is trying to reach you Trying to reach you She is trying to reach you Trying to reach you She is trying to reach you Trying to reach you She is trying to reach you Trying to reach youTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
