-The Revolution-

It’s a crying shame when your choice of game is never-ending fame for the victor. Fires ablaze over the valleys you raze for those quiet days you wish to devour,With your designed rhymes in space and time; yet they float like the faceless dictator you are. If man can’t speak his mind without being branded a Martyr; I will take a stand, take his hand, and raise it for the future to follow.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: