Style vs Substance

And our song begins to call out In soft minor keys Tonight children will die! Tonight children will die!

Done some editing...still not too sure...

Embellish his name clean it polish it shine it up just a little bit please reach down pull it from the mud- isn't that the kindest thing a person could do? say something

One thousand five hundred and twenty nine products to clean your sink Five thousand, two hundred and seven brands of toothpaste I am not satisfied.

What do you see, a feeble figure? Urinating in the bed Brittle ribs fractured by resuscitation. Plastic and alien, all tubes and beeping.

Maria She was born in a Mexican prison Nestled at the breast, her mother cursing cockroaches in the dark. She was taken and raised by the nuns in the convent courtyard she closed her eyes,

He's round the back smoking crack with underage girls Writing heartache manifestos we'll roll up our sleeves and say “bloody” smiling on production lines holding up his little red box.