Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
Tendon Levey
I'll be late, my lover
The livest bide the gun
I will wait for the evening
My lover
A tall diseased one
Sigh, some go my way
I want to be apart from the mess
I want to be apart from the mess
Hey my lover
I'll enter into Egypt on a broomstick
Give me room
And every sock hanging from the chimney place
I’m fired up
No way
I’m ixe cold
(There’s a skull)
In my room
I do not touch it
I’m not afraid to...
Where went that golden room