Entombed in a burning furnace of frustration. Calm streets of resignation
Cheeks covered in salt. My arms are tired to oar and never find land... The seeds I dropped in the ocean had never been grown.
I see my perdition through the desperation. Here is where my hopes lie... All my dreams... Wasted in a weak intent... Like sterile earth... the seeds I dropped...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
