Annie Purpose tried to inhale whatever air stroked her limbs - their skin chilled as the flesh on a butcher's slab laden with mottled carcasses brought mere moments before the interior of a slammed freezer door.Numbed as was -...

They don't wanna get their heads bashed in By the men with the flags hung over their backs She don't wanna get her head bashed in  By the men with the flags hung over their backs  He don't wanna get his head bashed...

The silly minutesrage by like afalling cuckoo clock.Dilapidated dreams arebent and burnt likeautumn leaves.Fuck the cliches.Time hurts, like agaping wound.Hold it close, andvalue every precioussecond.