Not done p.s fuck the world

Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by SaidDave, Sep 18, 2010.

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  1. SaidDave

    SaidDave Banned Member

    The sun hits my eyes it's golden light (Crimson turning to purple)
    The alabaster clouds with voices of might (Portals to variables)
    Churning through another relative thing (The bitter sweet taste)
    Somehow (Like a machine) can't be stopped
    Is it possible (Like a computer) to override this drive
     
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