Standing still against the change of seasons Without a coffin, the corpse of yesterday Ground Zero...
Catacomb of perished memories Empty slot in this necropolis Ground Zero...
Not a soul, not even troglodytes There's not a soul...
Washed away with the rain All the stains that were made from blood And the canvas is white...
No traces of blood
Washed away with the rain All the stains that were made from blood And the canvas is white From an artist lobotomized
Cold, as a winter's day Pale, as a ghost in chains Grey, as the ashes that drift with a nuclear wind
Cold, Pale, Grey
Cold, as a winter's day Pale, as a ghost in chains Grey, as the ashes that drift with a nuclear windTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
