la sombra de un hombre
I am the devil, the Devil I am
And I wait for the coming of
An innocent man
Be he young or be he old
Be his pockets full of gold
Be he happy or rich or wise
Be the ocean as blue as his eyes
I’ll wait for his coming at the midnight hour
I’ll pickle his soul, and turn it sour
For once his innocent heart I see
That innocent man belongs to me
Etiquetas: darkness
posted by Crisol @ 10:57 p. m.
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