The blood of an Indian nation slowly ripped apart
Promises made, then railroads laid
And the world was run from the barrel of a gun
So I ride on into the sun
With the shadows of the deeds that were done
I can't imagine what it was to be alive
The magic is still in the hills"
Bruce Dickinson "Fire Child"
Brak komentarzy:
Prześlij komentarz
Uwaga: tylko uczestnik tego bloga może przesyłać komentarze.