Life is a b.tch and then you die
If I die what will be my reward
Snitch
Let me live and declare the works of God
Such good stone you have cast in the ditch
B.tch
Curse upon you lips
Witch
Let your word fly for they will die and form an
Itch
In the
Stitch
Of time and will save nine lives
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Strong. Prayer heals wrath. Yet I always remember you used to say they heap coals of fire on their heads. Aptly ringing through.