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Anger kills the homeless souls
warm disease
1 min lectură·
Mediu
Anger kills the homeless souls
I am the convict of the filth world
with no father.
I killed my soul not to ask about him
so I’m the orphan that begs
on the corners of fate
for Alfa distribution in a field
of mines…
Because of the bullet thoughts
I buried him thousands of times
in the ground under my knees;
six feet under of punches
felt by the body vanished in hate
and no tear drop
will resurrect the affection he lost –
on the dark streets washed
by alcohol vapours and evil disease.
My heart cries for the mist
that captured my mind!
I am the child that searches for
love somewhere in the lost shelter.
I erased my tracks so no one will find me
hanged by the memories I dream of…
God is the only audience
on a stage with one performer
that acts with three different roles:
son, father and … sinner
for killing his soul!
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