Yes, ask me for a cigarette, crumple your foil, mutter, mutter, look me in the eyes and plead for help, see the cold world reflect back at you, the devil is mean, but he is honest. It is all so tragic, I can’t keep the words out of my mouth, I am telling everyone I know, oh! the tragedy, it is inevitable, the slow and cruel passing of time, the misunder…
© 2024 Caravaggio’s Stones
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