Call me what you will, it's your look that would kill As I process the last bill Of your love You say I’ll run up devilish hills
By Amanda Konatsotis3 years ago in Poets
If you or someone you know lived in New York City in the seventies, you or them can likely recall back to the summer of ‘76 when David Berkowitz's terror began.
By Amanda Konatsotis3 years ago in Criminal
It didn't start off with green or blue But brown hair struck with strips of a yellow hue Through the years my hair has changed
Footsteps trail through the snow Following a killer from long ago My mind wants to know If he would go down my block and stalk
We are the music, we are the song We are the instruments that play along We are the drums that keep up the pace And we hold the line like we’re playing bass