Killing Comb کے بول

The Summer I Simmered simple in the sand, No tongue- tied Mum and dumb, The comb, it just Found itself in my hand I stood when I Should I run. A conspiracy Those fellows and me And the comb, the way it's going Hardly I Hardly I Hardly I knew him But he had to die. To establish Whereabouts, where for? If guilty, flawed or more The world would find me Sprawled on the floor A vulgar foreigner A conspiracy Those fellows and me And the comb, the way it's going Hardly I Hardly I Hardly I knew him But he had to die.