leve me alone i dont like this i whant out of that billding i whant to go home
a fleeting glimps of what i youst to be of the boy runing torw my haed in a feld
were the red and blue flowers grow were the grass grows tall and thick were the boy who at age 9 pikt up a gutat and nevet let go he still hasut but the words of his songs talk of deth ad losst love with no way out with somthing to shout about WITH the will to go on
a fleeting glimps of what i was
a chilld […]
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