Your hips are swaying and your eyes are saying that you need two gamblers for this game youâre playing, and I might want you, but I donât need you and you wonât sleep in my bed anymore. it seeme
E a dead-end. seven years after seven to sing for this country instead of raven or venom, cuz your God was dead then and heâs never been back again, and I donât think about it anymore, yeah, itâ
Amble when your fingers burn from the last time that you flew and bled and the shadows that you walk around will still be there when the sun goes down. venus fly trap, 20 years now. and the chan
Just as fat as a union bureaucrat that the life you wanna live ainât the one youâre looking at. thereâs more risk in a brain cell than any vegas hotel and you canât find the pit-boss anywhere.
