OUTCAST BUT NO BASTARD.

OUTCAST BUT NO BASTARD.


Looking for some groping needle
And I try to find in haystack wheat
But only the weeds as I can,
The light had imagined? One spark,
The stomach has really wraps up
And I try to console me, but I do not care,
How can I still hang sometimes only being?
Outcast’s not creep.
And every vile carcass done in rubble
Do not let it see what happens
Besides the dead eyes of a child,
The night featuring prostitutes,
Bitchs sluts and more astute,
Reduce clothes and hope.

MARCOS LOURES