Poetry

Darkness comes with the setting sun.
So the party parade has begun.
Onward marching to the dancing band.
Caressed in images, that give love and sand.
Spreading the tiny AIDS bug to me.
A wrath of GOD, cursed upon thee.
There is no cure, GODS WILL, be.
That his son on the cross died for thee.
Setting enflamed souls, away from its curse.
Aids marches onward, like a river to sea.
All subscribers to the marching AIDS BAND.
Your better off just holding hands.

2007 from 8Hop.com
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JESUS SAVES