March
Through the gates opening to a sea of spears
Thirty knives on spikes singing the wind piercing my ears
Hitting me unprepared oh I wish I'd left
Right, left, all at once
March
To the bathroom sink and the water her kiss
My scortched face and every cut feels like a bliss
You'll never feel happier you say, oh I wish I'd left
Right, left, for everyone to see
March
Far from you, for you have no soul and yet you smile
And your love, inherited, ancient and vile
You'll die before I do, and I left
Right, left, all mine
About the Creator
Vili
Bitter patter
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