It's a spell you're running from I know it well— sugar is sweeter in hell The cough of cymbals, a victory bell, a parade for your years of good service Invisible, back-breaking, not worth it
By the time I left, I was vacant: a haunted house with no basement If you hate the night, then replace it with visions of light underground Dissolvable, impossible, transparent
First it's green and green then the weather speaks (at least that's how it appeared to me) Some unholy ghost in a cotton sheet A kid disguised as a tourniquet A sacrifice, a kitchen knife, so burn itTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
