Cave-In Bottom Feeder Letras:
Long walks with my temper take me down a dead end
street in contemplation; where do we start at the
end? Before i could collect myself, I'm vacuumed n
by a figure's armspread with fiery gasps of iron
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air, cornered in my circle of friends. Won't he
speak to you? Emptied on the floor were the shells
of my defenses, placing his own bullets of
condescendence. Those people shafted me of my
social weaponry.
Letras: Bottom Feeder Cave-In [final]