the ropes tighten to drain me of this blood there will be no peace no grain of pity to seize the hand the knife tears the way thru
tight is the noose, it's long been made the burns age on the skin of my neck we're the cracks on the walls of the houses of tyrants' whore running deep for the rot to settle in
the gates open within death's magick lends itself crawling thru my second birth desolate and paramount
i've proven my contradiction's worth once again worn from swimming against the stream and my vision turns bleak and whiteTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
