Contactez-nous

• Artiste: Why?
• Titre: This Blackest Purse
Assurez-vous que les corrections sont tout à fait exactes
S'il vous plaît, les mettez en évidence en quelque sorte!
Vous pouvez, par exemple, écrire
INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
CORRECT: avant la correspondant ligne correcte
Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.
i'm not who, with my eyes from stage, i claim to be, i've only cradled death in my own ending, flesh from far off and abstracted lit candle wick flickering and when a thing starts finishing around me, i faint or fake a moustache, an accent, or flee, in fear my expired license be pulled by sheer proximity fact: the poseur in the bowler gets shot first, thinks he's the shit cause he can spit and curse, actin' brash and flashin' a pistol that squirts, scowling, and shouting, "shall we dance?" should our heroes hands be holding this blackest purse? mom, am i failing or worse? mom, am i failing? what should these earnest hands be holding? still sportin' my ex-girlfriend's dead ex-boyfriend's boxers, i wanna operate from a base of hunger, no longer be ashamed and hide my tears in shower water while i lather for pleasure i wanna speak at an intimate decibel with the precision of an infinite decimal, to listen up and send back a true echo of something forever felt but never heard i want that sharpened steel of truth in every word the small fry in the bow tie dies first, acting wild like the spirit of god moving after church, faking he's hard like he's packed down dirt, already, and yelling, "be my guest" should our heroes hands be holding this blackest purse? mom, am i failing or worse? mom, am i failing? what should these earnest hands be holding? should our heroes hands be holding this blackest purse? mom, am i failing or worse? mom, am i failing? what should these earnest hands be holding?