Brendan Burke


Creator

I open up the skies, to prove that your alive,
And what beneath the surface, hides, denies, peace of mind,
The scum-bags lie and fry,
And i cry, i cry as to why this worlds gone awry,
I defy, i do not decry, this brass bound tie, you supply,
But this world it slips by,
And for this i still cry, cry till i die.


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