When the soil is painted with dead children and the oceans boil from where souls vapour and steam my cold eyes with which I bargain unjustified cries,there you find my excuse why I feed weak hopes hanging down the burning trees of a forlorn planet.
- O.B.
- O.B.
Kayıt Tarihi:
22 Şubat 2009 01.55
Statü:
Misafir Üye
Karizma:
105.5
Cinsiyet:
Erkek
Son Giriş Tarihi:
23 Kasım 2024 02.56