The Messenger God
Armand J. Azamar
Where the heat of the Sun beats down,
Where the craters remain razed of hope,
We tread the lonely cliffs still,
With no hope of a welcoming committee.
Where no wind blows and the morning blinds.
The Messenger God
Armand J. Azamar
Where the heat of the Sun beats down,
Where the craters remain razed of hope,
We tread the lonely cliffs still,
With no hope of a welcoming committee.
Where no wind blows and the morning blinds.