Luyện nghe bài hát Violets In My Hand

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

Violence, violence in his

As a child he on rainy roofs
Safe from his cloven hooves
And his mother's of fire
They never figured out it all meant
The fear of
So, rising from the pyre and the
soaked by the rain
To wash away the
To loosen up the upon his mind
He keeps it inside

Violence, in his hands