We are the architects of our own misery. Monuments of failure so high that they once eclipsed the sun. Awaiting perdition, we relish our art. Insatiable hunger for self destruction and the warmth of our own rot. Lost in the labyrinth of our own minds only to pass the time. But we cannot kill the time. It is the time that kills us, and as we sit back we soon become the dust that litters our derelict catacombs. We recognize that we're insignificant, but we still dream of a purpose only to ritually prepare for disappointment.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
