Hell Trappin' they souls in realms, baptize 'em with holy water Springin' on the heads of plenty witches' daughters Interviews with the richest reporters Silent nights over the dividers, a 1000
is cold. Bullituary, Obituboys. Bullituary, Obituboys. There's colors. See it in his face. Drifting through the sorrow. The visions yet display. It strips the soul
Suffer is cold. Bullituary, Obituboys. Bullituary, Obituboys. There's colors. See it in his face. Drifting through the sorrow. The visions yet display. It strips the soul
