Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Ceremony
Strict regards to all the walking dead, soon you will be struck down
Your miserable appeal destroys the masses
Wearing pretty faces filled with empty thoughts
Point my finger, place the blame, and I'll kill them off and cross them out