Ninety Pound Wuss. Where Meager Die Of Self Interest. Junk. Дзевяноста Wuss фунт. Дзе бедныя паміраюць ад уласных інтарэсаў. Барахло.
... The need to realize Shot, shot, shot, blank Staring down the barrel of my arm Shot, shot, shot, dead It's over drawn black Shot, shot, shot, red No restrictions
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