Song title; Disease
Walking disease on the street,
A lifeless man under your own steam,
From his nightmares,
Falling asleep,
on the street,
Searching for,
That one that got away,
From his cold hands,
With blisters
from the sun,
No God will take him,
for he has naught to bequeath,
All unaided in slience,
Demons walk over him,
No more,
No less.
He is a walking Disease,
Walking Dead,
No life,
Will give him chance,
God spits,
over him with tears of sin,
nothing more, nothing less,
Only to be stress,
for nothing more than a mess,
A man full of sin,
god give no repentance
for his prayers,
to be a dead man walking,
Filled disease.
By Santiago A. Sanchez
AKA SpookySpooker