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Trodding

de Trevor Junior

See the day, God let man shake hands and allowed women to give birth is the day. The devil stuck his flag in the ground and declared it his turf, and at night he goes to sleep, but without closing his eyelids, like a junkie found dead under the docks of coney island and he promises to speak the truth, but then he lies again. Oh, it's venomous, yes, but we're talking about the devil, what have you come to expect?

See there, is some kind of sign, but that sky it has yet to tell us it just keeps on raining bricks, and we've forgotten are umbrellas. Well, I guess it's hard to see the devil when he's wearing face paint, if you think you'll see him soon, you're bound to get impatient, you ain't a saint kid, you're a sinner like us you see there ain't no proof that God exists, but in god we trust.

He was spotted yesterday. Somebody sound that alarm, he was found dead in his closet with a needle in his arm.

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