The fog is rolling in a gentle drift of grey And to the left the sunset golden crowns the day The asphalt cooling down beneath the rusty wires The trees are swaying to the sound of squealing tires
Four unmarked buses like white horses in a line A shining abattoir no vampire left behind Another tragedy it happens all the time We should have seen the signs
Waiting for the crash
In fields of amaryllis - lenses tinted rosy red Approach the precipice with your eyes fixed straight ahead Then all you see is sky To fall or fly is all the same when you're so high
A sign of error breathing air that's not your own A shining corridor where all the birds have flown Four unmarked buses like white horses in a line A shining abattoir no vampire left behind
A plague of luxury with nothing else to find A place to sit through the debris of your decline A dream is forming in a sad and twisted mind They should have seen the signs
Waiting for the crashTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
