Chills of frigid air breeze through these sheets A shadow without a corpse now roams our streets
Dug below a grave that most came to shun Resurface above everything they wish to become Appearing under a blanket of darkness Disappearing under the glare of the forgotten sun
I am not insane
The dead walk beside the breathless who speak I know what I've seen and what's been brought before me I witness her cry, not another face hides Alone in this room, a pale beauty still breaths
Chills of frigid air breeze through these sheets A shadow without a corpse now roams our streets Alone in a crowded room of wandering souls White knuckles clinch, only thoughts controlled A silent plea to simply be seen
As ghosts of men, we embrace the endTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.