In my time streets led to the quicksand.
Speech betrayed me to the slaughterer.
There was little I could do. But without me
The rulers would have been more secure. This was my hope.
الاثنين، سبتمبر ٢٥، ٢٠٠٦
I WOULD RATHER SINK !
I'm alone, I'm alone and I'm beating my soul to make it bleed a drop of hope then I'll drink it up in a golden cup and let it grow inside
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