I do not want to meet
their wives
or look at
photographs of
their
children.
this is
war.
I look into
their
maledict
eyes,
excuse myself
and walk
off.
Rome burns as
the odds
flash.
Mrs. Death
crosses
her
legs.
-->
I do not want to meet
their wives
or look at
photographs of
their
children.
this is
war.
I look into
their
maledict
eyes,
excuse myself
and walk
off.
Rome burns as
the odds
flash.
Mrs. Death
crosses
her
legs.