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With a million lines of carbon mojo folio resting on the escrtorio. Strokes hate love
Strokes Strokes Strokes
friendly smiles tears Strokes Strokes

inlegibles

And it's ironic too ...
'Cos do What We Tend to act on
Is What They Say, And Then
it is that way.



For them

For them I mourn



bite I want to scream I want to run




'm sorry, so sorry
I'm sorry it's like this, I
'm sorry,
so sorry I'm sorry we do this,



I plunge a dagger into the heart

I want to run and fall

reason I mourn without

know that the heart is for more than for Later


Who Are They? Where Are They?


And day after day

As a child she would not eat




How Can They Possibly Know all this?



\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Why them?>>
\u0026lt;\u0026lt;Why?>>


Do You See What I See?
Why do we live like this? is