Those Twisted Irons that Men have Made, Bring Muder to our Streets.
And When the Makers have been paid, They blame our Hip Hop Beats.
I Wish....... Click To Edit.. Insert Link Insert Image Insert Video Help Insert ParagraphUndoes the last commandRedoes the last commandTabUntabSet a bold styleSet a italic styleSet a underline styleSet a strikethrough styleClean a styleSet left alignSet center alignSet right alignSet full alignToggle unordered listToggle ordered listOutdent on current paragraphIndent on current paragraphChange current block's format as a paragraph(P tag)Change current block's format as H1Change current block's format as H2Change current block's format as H3Change current block's format as H4Change current block's format as H5Change current block's format as H6Insert horizontal ruleShow Link Dialog Summernote 0.8.11 · Project · Issues
There Factories make bits of Death, with much great legal Cover
And our Poor Parents hold their Breath, As Big Youth Kill Each Other
Some Die where they once Danced with Dreams and Great futures Ahead
Some Live As They Kill Us it Seems, And Laugh when we are Dead