Jukebox The Ghost The Sun
Everything under the Sun,
Is getting burnt.
Everything under the Moon,
Is gonna sink.
And i think that one day soon,
It's all gonna.
In nights of blood,
Gore by enterents(What it sounds like but ???),
Big bags of water,
Steps to take,
Totally out her.
Seems like cloud could take our hurt away,
Two busy city streets,
We're running fast,
But what are we running for.
Well i hate to be the barer of bad news,
But ive been all around,
I've seen the globe from upside down,
Theres no clear end, on the firey flow with,
Angels blowing, trumpets below, and calling out his
judgement sounds.
If god exsits in a place like this then,
Where else could this god or goddess be if he or she is
trapped in side.
What if its all just a black abbis, and lips that kiss
you, when your safe, or feeling just a little out of
touch.
