Scarred underneath my dreads still feel the bash with to the Head who would want a three-year-old dead those who set out to have me killed should have known it was not God's will prophecy must be fulfilled like a patch must be sown over a hole it takes much time to heal broken bones there is no way out of being home there is no place like the Zone where there's peace of mind leaving past pieces behind in bags of torn rags
The Immortal Wize
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