old folks frey, the curb to the housethe smell of illness and lost soulspainted on the walls of washed off paintquirky noises; maybe its settling inits an old house, of generationsBrandy gave me a key; old swine gave upthe ghosts in the alley were broken; flickering lights

-NORTON

Select a background
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image
Awesome background image

More quotes by NORTON