12 acessos
That whisper, your curling razor,
Mistakenly wound around my tongue
To squeeze some fucking truth from that wicked obsession,
Your obsession, where i can pass by.
They do that when you're dead.
Alive i could count the stars,
And you counted the screams.
So if you would please just hand me my ticket,
I will go and join the ground.
It was where i was in the first place.