Let my heart grow cold as I get old and the walls start closing in, till the music turns warped and the house is ragged and my head is full of sin, from the booze to the page from the coke to the stage history shall repeat, let my body wither let lay on the floor dazed as the high runs down and my body aches I know I've decided my fate
أنت تقرأ
poems of the past
الشعرpoems I've come up with from my past and my present that I shall present on display
