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7 марта 24, 03:40

Dmitry MetalLord

Лирика : Thought Industry : Mods Carve The Pig: Assassins, Toads, And God's Flesh : Worms Listen


Please, mom, tuck my football comforter in stove
warm. Gloss photo gasworks. I'll slip dreams boy
seven. Destroying surface mars. Camping T. Ben
Johnson. Cub scout tames autumn Michigan. We'll
lleep, troop eleven catching snipes. Flashlight.

Jane's kissing my blushing cheek. I'll learn. Only
ten years later cursed to see my lay dead. Dumbest
fatality. Auto crash. She could do anything except save
me.

Kindergarten leisure suit. Brother, stitches tin can
thrown cuts. I'll sleep lofty tree fort. Shot my pellet
gun. Dad, two sons fish turtle lake. Blue gills caught
below the damn line. We'll sleep. Small tent
campground. Watch the heat lightning.

Jane's wearing my class ring. I'll learn. Sixteen.
Driver's license. Car. She'll breath me dead. Dumbest
fatality. Turned too late. They could do anything except
calm her.

Now it's time to fly. Celebration. Triumphant.
Jubilation. Atheist.

M-66 faint sirens. I'm left eating my steering wheel.
I'll sleep. Worms will listen. Worms underground.

Whisper softly drowsiness. My turn. Tribute should
be drunk and pissed off, my friends. Dead. Dumbest
fatality. Burn the husk. If you do anything, think fondly
of me.

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