The sweet trickle Against pure glass The leaves soaring high Far away on earth
My life is empty Many vile people lay Pondering why in pools of blood In my room there is only ruin
It takes more to mend Necrotic flowers bent down Under the weight of sorrow As I decided to cease
Tender are the wounds of mine Red are the roses you grow I paint them with my blood in slow motion As the flesh parts A true monument of my wreckage In a pale shade of emeraldTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
