martes, 5 de abril de 2011

ᵡᶱᶳ

Through the bridges in my head
Once build of hate and despair
What really defeated my core was the air,
softly produced by the violence in your legs.

Oh, the sound of fear in my knees
What's left for me? I'm the real queen of thieves.

There's a cross hanging from your neck,
salvation is at the end of this month's gap.

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