the braid from your hair. rested on your shoulder. shown in the green light. from the panel of instruments. . the hairs looked like threads. woven and were perfect.
My thing. . My thing. . My thing. . Don't you mess with me yeah. What you looking at. Don't mess with me yeah. What you looking at. Don't mess with me yeah.
Unexpectedly. . Looking for a reason to carry on. A passion of apocalypse to center. Hoping for victory to set me free. I need to find someone to comfort me.