An exotic bird, caged wit the rage and the violence of my words
<< thoughts by POPS at 2:33 AM on Tuesday, July 24, 2007
We proceeded on a country road
His mother's eyes withered swoll
Her child was never coming home
Said a prayer for his soul
As the coffin had closed
Committed to the earth below
First seed she would sew
Would be a tree never grown
Shade that was never known
Who controls the Terrordome
The member hearts made of stone
Who love only what they own
throwback. google it.
His mother's eyes withered swoll
Her child was never coming home
Said a prayer for his soul
As the coffin had closed
Committed to the earth below
First seed she would sew
Would be a tree never grown
Shade that was never known
Who controls the Terrordome
The member hearts made of stone
Who love only what they own
throwback. google it.
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