Chain tracks weep for the corridor Slopes and worms and soil unfirm Treetops blow, sawdust-covered paths hiding the war It is as if they were trying to steer a raft with but their skull in the waters, nodding to keep afloat
Out of a thousand, one to radiate, to know the coming: In the midst of the marsh there is a hill to die on
Bunkers have withered, supply trails have sunken in the mud But how it does obscure a true face Is it about one's foot to sacrifice for a ripped piece of cloth to shield but a despicable head from the cold
Out of a thousand, one to radiate, to know the coming: In the midst of the marsh there is a hill to die onTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
