The Living End

Makiladoras

Whisper to me the lullabye that can put me to rest. What sweet secrets do you scream?
(death comes to me).
His symtpoms arise of a chance to end this suffering. I can't see my time with these ocular lesions draining my soul.
One last dance with the children before this harsh winters comes.
"Go into the ground", [it whispers] this winter whispers to me.

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