309
المشتركون
لا توجد بيانات24 ساعات
-257 أيام
-51930 أيام
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309
My, my, those eyes like fire
I'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
Come now, bite through these wires
I'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired
Reset my patient violence along both lines of a pathway higher
Grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire
