Death race
She ran away
From heart and home
And still no place to hide
Staying strong
With shaking bones
It seems again she lied
Standing still
Head up high
Fight the battle once more
Torn apart
Crumbling at night
By day the self-sold whore
Playing the queen
The perfect doll
Yet another bruise
Racing with death
Going past herself
And still she'll always lose
Reacties op dit gedicht
Over dit gedicht
| Auteur: Mysticelfje |  
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| Gecontroleerd door: Sunflower | ||
| Gepubliceerd op: 04 november 2005 | ||
| Thema's: | ||