No love, no hope, no fight, with an end drifting into sight. Her plague is dismal, minuscule, petty. The desolation of my home, the end of my being. And forever to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, with or without abundance of wealth? This plague is deafening. I fought the war and lived to see the spoils. I refuse to let you carry on without a purpose, my muse, my love, my end. I refuse to let you carry on into the hands of an ignorant god. As the chamber opens into a cylinder of solace, I will rest beside you, my love, in eternal damnation. And with the words of a million men on a bullet destined for my head, no love, no hope, no fight. With an end drifting into sight. Your plague is dismal, minuscule, petty. The desolation of my home, the end of my being.

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.