The Black Hitler Is Born

riding on a cloud of evil surfing the whirlwinds of disaster i think you ought to know I'm running on E come and bury me lily pads fingertips peace at last we children of deceitful past we greet the hours as our last hidden behind a fabricated past i was five on a sleeping pad riding on a cloud of evil surfing the whirlwinds of disaster i think you ought to know i'm running on E come and bury me math was a problem i rarely laughed when to be sincere meant to become entrapped we were once as you a figment of truth awaiting filth guilt came equally as the fever was intangible "smoke will rise intentions will fall the pains intense but for all that you have done to me i feel i must repay you if i can not have peace no one will" th3blackhitler.com