The wind plays a haunting tone
It tells me that I’ll die all alone
Far from my friends
A breaths away from where they can no longer defend
My footsteps fall to the sound of guns
It’s too late to become undone
Shiny eyes watch me
The little, waiting absentee
With ****** wrists wrenched behind my back
Standing bound before a man on horseback
And a ***** rag covering his eyes
The absentees’ about to die
Long live France; Long live the future
And the flower falls to the shots of the shoo
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC
The wind plays a haunting tone
It tells me that I’ll die all alone
Far from my friends
A breaths away from where they can no longer defend
My footsteps fall to the sound of guns
It’s too late to become undone
Shiny eyes watch me
The little, waiting absentee
With ****** wrists wrenched behind my back
Standing bound before a man on horseback
And a ***** rag covering his eyes
The absentees’ about to die
Long live France; Long live the future
And the flower falls to the shots of the shoo
