

From The InsideFrom The Inside * Hollow walls with no pictures An echo for the screams A book without the pages Not knowing what it means * Upon the bed there are no covers Yet inside there is a chill A room not like the others Held against your will * A nice warm leather jacket That ties behind your back Binds to keep you quiet Before the final attack * Deep within the building You hear the spooky sounds Of a hundred silent voices With no one around * They dine at an oaken table Their guests become the feast So manFrom The Inside
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imagine: there's no tomorow...
André.
We are all the craftman of our luck.
André.
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Alternative model looking to build an impressive portfolio!
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