If Thoughts Could Kill, We'd Both be Deader Than a Week-Old Corpse کے بول

Please abuse me with fists perfectly formed. Bite off my tongue so i wont say a word (The anger dulls your beauty) (The alcohol washes it completely away)... A cantankerous cacophony of calamity. Consume conscience but claim control. (And its only now I realize that i've overexposed myself)... I no longer believ