Blood in the water,
Blood in the sand.
In the land of my Father,
Cold steel in my hand.
I creep through the night,
Death in my mind.
To be the last sight,
Of those that I find.
I cling to the dark,
The Moon won't betray.
I locate my mark,
Bring an end to his day.
I pounce from behind,
I stab with my knife.
To his pain I am blind,
As I bleed out his life.
He draws a last breath,
I look to his eyes.
I'm a dealer of death,
A task I despise.













Devious Comments
Comments
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People aren't chocolates. D'you know what they are? Bastards. Bastard coated bastards with bastard-y centers.
Nice job, nice rhymes!
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...The meek shall inherit the Earth...
~Anti-JXK-Club ~SeemFanClub
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*TUG TUG* ... ah yes the good old days...
ITS KINDA SAD THO BUT ITS KOOL
OUR STORY IS STUOID BUT IF YOU DARE YOU CAN CHECK IT OUT
BUM...BUM...BUM...
BYE.....
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Bonez says: meep
MNM says: Yo Mamma
Bobina says: chickens they cum they go!
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Support bacteria - they're the only culture some people have.
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I've spent 99% of my money on wine, women and song. The rest I wasted.
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The void breathed hard on my heart, turning its illusions to ice, shattering them. --Rorschach, Watchmen
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I've spent 99% of my money on wine, women and song. The rest I wasted.
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