gioventù bruciata

my names macbeth and wen its nite or wen the moon is shiyning brite and to their sleep the men do cling i stay up late

i stab the king

Never was there a tale of more woe than that of Juliet and her Romeo

Never was there a tale of more strife than that of Macbeth and his stabby knife

Never was there a tale of more sad than that of Hamlet and his spooky dad