Quinones

I’m walking barefoot on the Sun, as I lock and shoot from my gun while we move afoot to the slums preserving the roots of my Son. True to virtue of man; hunger of fools who seek vice. Where do you choose to stand, under the Moon or street light? I elevate the atoms of mortals and emulate through abandoned portals. Ad hoc under decree of Colossals absorbing adversaries as morsels. I’m a renegade that revolts to his own tune, came to serenade every soul to it’s cold tomb. Thinking of death every time that a rose blooms, holding my breath every time that a crow croons. From the Holy Grail I’m sipping,