Ian Curtis untitled 6

In the back of my mind,
All I feel is mistrust,
In the back of my mind,
All I see is the dirt,
Segregation of thoughts,
Ideals turn to dust.

Where some houses once stood,
Stands a man with a gun,
In some neighbourhood,
A father hangs up his son,
In the back of my mind.
_______________________

Mas
textos
de
este
señor
que
murio
en
la
cocina
de
su
casa
pulsa:
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