Luyện nghe bài hát Violets In My Hand

This is a story a man
A short story about the violence in his
On trigger
He ain't used to taking
So no giving it
And his ego's bigger
He's scarred by his own war
Hate - he the ones he hates
He hurts the he loves and don't care for
The reaper on his floor

Violence, in his hand

As a child he slept on roofs
from his father's cloven hooves
And his mother's of fire
They figured out what it all meant
The of descent
So, from the pyre and the smoke
Redeemingly soaked by the
To away the pain
To loosen up the strain his mind
He keeps it inside

Violence, violence in his