Your terror is bought and sold
Stealing silence deadly winds her belches warn dissent, That’s the way, conclusion cold as witches’ tits, Robbing identities, strangling servants, matching half wits
Fate’s certain demise circles round the evidence, We all know the bells quit ringing long ago.
innocence declared a legend by the lunatic
Is the Servìce Comprìs? A tribute to a working wasteland Orange and carpets for the walking dead Poor Pete the