In my mind's eyes I see the path To the gates of child's land Fluffy moss under my feet My hair talking with the wind Drops of rain which have just fallen
far away Beg for your death Hoisted upon the meathook Anally impaled Rectum engulfing the meathook In excruiating pain Your screams cause delight Watching
way of time The surrounding green tastes this immortal instant To be the frame of melancholy read by parallel selves Feeling golden winds opening the gate
