Stony monuments, ghost of the town. Man in pressed suits, armed with rehearsed speeches Offering irresistable promises Through their awful white teeth The price? Your blind faith. Or rather, the rights to feed on your poverty So that they can afford more of those awful suits, To await for their next prey.
where are the bullets?
THINGS WORTH KILLING FOR.
cardigan
new shirts
faded jeans
tie
light yellow polo tee
white berms
nice belt
nice tall mohawk
cymbal set
glam, gay haircut
blonde
my wife :]
