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The sun is watching the birds fly slowly
The flock is buried by white cloud's shadows
The beat is trying to hold the mountain
He is made of ice but never blood purple

Every time this happens
The children run faster
They run fast trying to catch their feathers

The moon is distant
And no one matters

The bones are breaking
As age takes over
The eyes are spoiled by too much sunlight

Little nude monsters are crying for lovers
The more they try the more they slither

The wind is too harsh to even show up…

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