“This is not meant to bring you joy. This is not meant to give you any solace. This is the cold, ugly truth of what happens when we put off our rose-tinted glasses, or when they are violently ripped off our noses. May you find peace with this state of mind one day. May you embrace this pain and allow it to make you stronger. May this teach you how to turn this poison into an antidote.”
Cold cuts through my fingers As I drag them over the surface Punish them as I Disturb the still waters With one light touch I Wrinkle all existence Distort all future Destroy all quiet Send waves of confusion Through these waters Of life Even the gentlest stroke Causes harm There's thunder afar What have I becomeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
