I knew the shredder when he used to hang at the park in the late afternoon I never talked to him I only watched while he tear Turns out the ground
witnessed he thought his answer he had found and once more unfolded his wings and left earth?s solid ground with every sweep of those wings across time
Can't see the slightest smiles And we blur into our death and the second great death Whilst we chase chicks and dream of a paradise without wings or sorrow, Christ's tears fall
, Dust to Dust A verse we know too well Like a nursery rhyme Just in reverse 'Cause we are all the little tin man With hearts like little tin cans And
to Earth, Dust to Dust A verse we know too well Like a nursery rhyme Just in reverse 'Cause we are all the little tin man With hearts like little tin
operated by Alfred McClock, an eccentric man with a fascination with Civil War weaponery. McClock's chicken farms produces over 140 000 chickens a year and ships wings
