Counting Crows —
In between the moon and you
Angels get a better view
Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right
Categorised as: Blogs | Lyrics, Poetry | Music
Almost as soon as the thief breathes his last breath, a cloud of sinister black fog envelops him, and when the fog lifts, the carcass has disappeared.
In between the moon and you
Angels get a better view
Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right
Categorised as: Blogs | Lyrics, Poetry | Music
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