Punk on Queen
By Gwion
the brutal wind whips icy knives at the back of your skull shaved bare to the elements so fucking cold it's not crisp, it's bitter so that the metal freezes cold sterility into your face and the man on the back of the bus reminds you: This is a fatal season Written February 2nd, 2001 © on Jan 17 2002 12:37 PM PST 0 • 1
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"the brutal wind..."