Text:
Devil Ate My Son Where Ghosts Roam

abstract patterns that place the pistol on our temples bodies `ve been buried under the footprints of pharmaceutical efforts where amnesty leaves heroin graves in a land where

blossom into the unknown with your enemy at your side what will your worst nightmare be like more than once had she forgiven more than once had she been betrayed where

security exists where parents fail? does security exists where parents fail? acknowledgement is given by coloured shadows their words are pistols in our children's hands my