He came to me.
Took a knife to my chest.
my son my own son..
Murder me on July 8th
My birthday.
He doesn't love me.
He never will.
I'm dead now..
Past away..
No one cared.
No one asked how.
Now he's at my funeral.
Smiling.
my son..
He came to me.
Took a knife to my chest.
my son my own son..
Murder me on July 8th
My birthday.
He doesn't love me.
He never will.
I'm dead now..
Past away..
No one cared.
No one asked how.
Now he's at my funeral.
Smiling.