cursing them
beautiful scroundels
God is not fair
Sometimes
I feel like that
And it is more painful this way
I want that
The bangsat are ugly
And the good are angelic
The maid pondering the tips of the smile
Shaping the lip into pyramid
The mind is not calm yet
Just let them be
Just let it be
Thunder for their life
Storm for their heart
Wind blowing carrying the sharpened dust
Piercing their pores
Widening their wound
Blood flowing river
Red is whole
Shine in the dim of sum
Bounce to the bottom of the alley
Where all claws staggering the nails
Sinister the glow
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