Wrecked small and mellow
On the ground with no tell of who would find me
In this band of fellows
No don’t tell me
He might be
Stolen and unlikely told that he’s old and stubborn
Emboldened nightly in gold in his Father’s mouldy cupboard
He’s sold no more days or time and he just cried because his Mother just died
And no one knew her
And no one came to the funeral
And no one cared to find the killer
Because we all are guilty
These filthy brothers decline into their pool of blood at night
We could give it up for nothing
We have given it up for nothing
We have given it up for Nothing
About the Creator
Secret Bract
I have a passion for writing and I believe an artist's goal is to change the world for the better, no matter how impossible it may seem :)
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