8 acessos
It seems to be cold in here,
Inside the empty head of you.
The end of you.
When you speak, your pink,
Pink pout spouts out poison,
And without a doubt,
They believe in you.
Idiot, well i know, yes i know,
What this is about.
I have most definitely figured you out.
Behind your vile smile,
Here is more teeth than i can count
And a pair of horns to go with your lying grin.