But in your head, You're all dead.
You're brain's cold
from what's been told.
and there you sit, begging change.
don't you get it?
You're still in the shooting range
Ride.
This is life not a game
and it's getting real old.
Your body is hungry for your soul's been sold
And now your trapped, deep inside
my kind of ride
sixty-nine stories down down,
better-better run and hide
בכל הבלוגים
שם בלוג/בלוגר
