The older we grow, closer we come to our own burial Life isn't long enough to live for ourselves This martyr's gift we give Throw your fucking stones You worthless sheep knowingly follow the wolf Last of the last, self judgment, reflections of thoughts repressed How could it come to this? How could it come to these parting words, never meant to be spoken? Into a waking coma we've fallen Dragging our feet to the sound of vultures circling over our head How could it come to this? Martyr, who weeps for you? Martyr, who will weep? Does this face say, "clown?" Shower me with neglect All things must come to an endTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
