Friday evening. The sun hangs low in the west, but something moves in the east.
Move as it may, it’s got to go through me.
I’m unarmed.
It hasn’t got a chance.
Friday evening. The sun hangs low in the west, but something moves in the east.
Move as it may, it’s got to go through me.
I’m unarmed.
It hasn’t got a chance.
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