Circle Circle
Bird Killer
When I'm ready to kill all the birds out in the woods, when I'm ready to steal the last song from their soul, I will bring no gun and I will bring no stones but I feel their bones breaking in my grasp and I will the air leave their little lungs out onto my face. Because these weapons make us weak, and these weapons make us cowards. You believe in a god that gave you these hands but you don't know how to use them.
From Letras Mania