Two by two, walking hand in hand
The bones come marching from the Promised Land
Their voices carry like the sound of glass
It burns my ears when they sing:
“Everything you do is wrong”
Published
Two by two, walking hand in hand
The bones come marching from the Promised Land
Their voices carry like the sound of glass
It burns my ears when they sing:
“Everything you do is wrong”
Exodus from the blue hellsite 