گیت کے بول کے نقاط
ENاصل بول
ترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
Of rat
In fact
With every rome inside me
Licked and ransacked
She haunted at the corners of my mind
In black
Cataracts
Wouldn't whitewash away
Her filthy smoke stack
She burnt me like a furnace
For my future suicide
Lead to the river
Midsummer, I waved
A 'V'' of black swans
On with hope to the grave
All through Red September
With skies fire-paved
I begged you appear
Like a thorn for the holy ones...
