for Mask of Gold
116/23/2004 c1 Aleara Conlin
My feet are blue with cold,
As I walk the roads of old,
I see a world that suffers,
Behind a mask of gold.
I really liked that. It rhymes without trying and the words are perfect.
My feet are blue with cold,
As I walk the roads of old,
I see a world that suffers,
Behind a mask of gold.
I really liked that. It rhymes without trying and the words are perfect.