About
Sorry, I don't play anymore.
We see the moon.
Not the sun.
Why, it loathe us.
Moon, shine us down.
It does so,
And makes us proud.
Why we die of sun's hate?
I do not know.
No one knows.
Not even god himself.
Old stake in the heart.
Garlic sprays? Ha!
Come on now, we're the ulimate beings.
We live when ever we want to.
We live for glorly,
or to be depressed for the rest of our lives.
We are the nosferatus.
We are the living deads.
We are your fear.
Comments
View All Comments