I know that what I see depends on Colour of my iris It's made of my confusing immunity So accuse only my thoughts That they're flowing too slow To deprive me of stablity In painful inheritance of my past Do not try to expose me We both don't want to know that conclusion. Better to feed your eyes With incomplete reality.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.