"TurnTables" Turn the tables, spin them round who suffers blood thursty hounds. Rip, tattered, torn... I grasp for air. How much more pain could i bair. Now smelling their pray near, they sneak in shadows, where they can hear. As I pray to the sky begging, screaming not to die. evil
I liek noodles · Fri Apr 22, 2005 @ 12:49pm · 0 Comments |