1900
1
For Black PPL to come is a stream of fighters riding into what God picked to represent that particular conception,
For me, its the same cell mate dying for the dream of the world to kick butt reflection,
A pulpit U were standing in, a robbery U found out to win,
A butterfly lengthens the proof check of why we bias the grass is greener on the other side,
Allowing the favor to plunder the earth’s cruelty in packs of lies,
By old girl, the bludgeon body massacre appears savage,
Governed to the truth of the harm U have battled,
The peace sells the return for the arbor of silence,
Drifting in the humor of the sun caving violence,
U know the worm had a stop because that’s how U found him, stopped,
However, the effect passing, covers the entail of the worm’s color to plot.
