The Dreaded Marco
Footballguy
I wonder why we listen to poets when nobody gives a ####.
How hot and sorrowful, this machine begs for luck.
All my lies are always wishes.
I know I would die if I could come back new.
				
			How hot and sorrowful, this machine begs for luck.
All my lies are always wishes.
I know I would die if I could come back new.
 
	 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		 
 
		