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the thrown upon the thrown sits a man of stone with eyes white as snow. sits and wonders why all day because it is not going his way.looks upon the pollards of time that cast dark shadows upon his mine. is there dought i fine lord to the wise .tell me why do angels fly for in its hart i fine a lie its cough my mine in a illusion of deceit. now we will see for it has to be done the right way father .do you say give it to me for it will be done the right way . the end gordon kerr
Posted on: Sun, 07 Jul 2013 05:23:13 +0000

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