Cigarettes have killed millions. I wish I would have thought of that. What the fuck smells like tooth loss in here? We've got lamb on the door waiting for the angel. Walking through blood knee high. I wish I would have thought of that. What the fuck smells like bad priest in here? We've got blood on the door. God-war. Death-president. Let's get hopped up on horse tranquilizers and play with claw hammers. Maybe stop at the tendon and try to keep this screwdriver out of your neck. Hey kids, the Jesus-reaper wears a cowboy hat. (These plowshares have fashioned the perfect swords. I kneel with one eye on the clock. High up in our heaven they'll laugh and smoke cigars when natural selection renders this rock a vacant lot - Trevor Strnad). We should apologize... say we're sorry. If you hadn't sprayed our throats on the floor, Micheal.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
