THE FACELESS:(Written By Wireko Philip)
It was a cold night,
One could hear the
Wind whistle as the tracks,
Made a subtle noise.
Looked out the window, nothing
but darkness as far as the eye could see.
Then the scene changed,
There's children's paintings soaked,
Guns in a borne fire, with faceless people
Gathered round.
All but one board the train, and
Slits his throat before wished good bye.
One could hear the
Wind whistle as the tracks,
Made a subtle noise.
Looked out the window, nothing
but darkness as far as the eye could see.
Then the scene changed,
There's children's paintings soaked,
Guns in a borne fire, with faceless people
Gathered round.
All but one board the train, and
Slits his throat before wished good bye.
Bloodshot eyes of the faceless,
And their pale white skin, all sat in silence. The train moved faster,
Back to the past it did.
It was Johnson, the slit throat.
Soaked in blood, for he mourns.
He takes the train back, armed to the teeth. Every one but the faceless survive,
For the best revenge is to live in guilt,
And to die from the inside.
And their pale white skin, all sat in silence. The train moved faster,
Back to the past it did.
It was Johnson, the slit throat.
Soaked in blood, for he mourns.
He takes the train back, armed to the teeth. Every one but the faceless survive,
For the best revenge is to live in guilt,
And to die from the inside.
