You were my little baby girl
And I knew all your fears
Such joy to hold you in my arms
And kiss away your tears
But now you're gone
There's only pain
And nothing I can do
And I don't want to live this life
If I can't live for you The
above is a death contract written by SID, a translation:
NANCY, my sweet little girl, all your fears cannot escape my eyes, I once held you in my arms and kissed you Tears, but now that you are gone, there is nothing but pain and emptiness and helplessness. If I can't live for you, life means nothing to me.
The last words were: "We have a death pact, I must keep it, please bury me beside my baby, along with my leather jacket. Jeans and motorcycle boots. Goodbye"!
Our perpetual 21-year-old ruffian, perpetual rebel, doomed romantic punk, charismatic scumbag, crappy rocker, handsome short-lived - stop laughing!
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