The Gate Number 12

Arssenick

Compositor: Não Disponível

Gallerys! painted with black of death
Walls with gosht like hell
Silence over the place
The evils walks in there.

The earth is all over my head
The air compress my chest
Here is!were the boss send to you
to work, to earn your bread.

Don`t cry
This will be your life
Your bread, your son your wife
a home, a grave a life
All! The mine.

Screams,on the walls
a tied child, to the door
Misery, in their poor homes
Makes a father gives his son.