Your hips are swaying and your eyes are saying that you need two gamblers for this game you抮e playing, and I might want you, but I don抰 need you and you won抰 sleep in my bed anymore. it seeme
E a dead-end. seven years after seven to sing for this country instead of raven or venom, cuz your God was dead then and he抯 never been back again, and I don抰 think about it anymore, yeah, it�
Amble when your fingers burn from the last time that you flew and bled and the shadows that you walk around will still be there when the sun goes down. venus fly trap, 20 years now. and the chan
Just as fat as a union bureaucrat that the life you wanna live ain抰 the one you抮e looking at. there抯 more risk in a brain cell than any vegas hotel and you can抰 find the pit-boss anywhere.
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