Marna poetycka rozkmina w moim wydaniu...
Black feathers falls from the skye
Like the crystals of snow that covers his heart
They dancing on the cold wind of words
The wind that shattered his mind and soul
His eyes turned from blue to ice-cold white
His thoughts clean, now corrupted they are
Nor Demon nor Saint he is
But poor, poor dead Angel of Justice
*By Shapeshifter
***
Don't trust
Don't shake
Don't love
Just' fake
Don't stay
Don't care
Don't think
but fake
Don't feel
Don't pray
Do so
And You'll be safe
*By Shapeshifter
... nie miałem pomysłu na zdjęcie...
To wszystko jest takie nierealne... dziwne... dziwnie znane... przerażająco znane... straszne...