Don't look at me and say you see
good,
They don't like that. The way
my hands are caked in colour. The way
the wall behind me is now
desecrated, they say, how can you
question those who wear
well with grain on their
lips?
The grain is their gun and
it's always on their
lips.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
Don't look at me and say you see
good,
They don't like that. The way
my hands are caked in colour. The way
the wall behind me is now
desecrated, they say, how can you
question those who wear
well with grain on their
lips?
The grain is their gun and
it's always on their
lips.
