Honest Joe

Throttlerod

Compositor: Não Disponível

Long stare at the clouds above
What is it that I am inocent of
Ground stinging my feet till death
I dont know how to close my eyes
Or rest my head
Through the walls
I hear them sing
I keep walking and pretend
I dont feel anything
My ears ring and my tongue
Is burnt I miss my home in Car-o-lina so bad it hurts

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