Running on the egde of the cliff, can't see the bottom below Running from the drove of pigs, they're breathing ebony fire Turning black is the sky with clouds thick, my limbs are going numb Never run nor hide
Pigs will catch me soon They grin with slaver Heads of them are countless Rush like furious waves
I see another drove ahead
Rather dive to death from the edge Than eaten alive
My last view is their faces Faces of the pigs Every pig has the face of mine Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
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