I may not be a preacher, but a bastard with a spoken mind. Deep thoughts stay repressed, find a way for me to stay possessive. I don't know who lit these candles in my house. It might be me, infested with doubt. I guess it's time to put on my black suit, and maybe then I'll learn to deal with the bad news. My mind is a wandering whore, on these fucking streets, begging for more. My mind is a wandering whore, on the streets, begging for more. Guillotine mirror, speak to me, for the path we chose, was filled with burning leaves. Grieving world, demented peace. A script of love, a pointless plea. Divorce papers, the plot that bleeds. The medicine that made us ill. Skin and stone, marriage greed. So rest assured, they will bleed. Watch your fall.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
