Hung by the limbs with face pointing down Stony eyes staring in empty space My hand could never hold a knife Foolish brain was the only cause
Judge this asshole wasn't better then me He made my mistake one more time He chosen killing for free for you to see That murder is an act which never denies
Might my life, be time for you For you to learn what is right But what when masterpiece becomes destroyed Humanity builds distance from light One path runs from another Higher point falls to lower Somebody will try in future And will meet blindness in cover
The well adjusted make poor prophets A pleasant existence blinds us to the possibilities of drastic change. We cling to what we call our common sense, our practical point of view. These are names for an all-absorbing familiarity with things as they are. . . . Thus it happens that when the times become unhinged, it is the practical people who are caught unaware . . . still clinging to things that no longer exist.
Hope should be a hot fire in cold nights Kept like warmth and saved from greedy hands Infinite logic, it will lead to nowere Form hole in fulfillment
Might my life, be time for you For you to learn what is right But what when masterpiece becomes destroyed Humanity builds distance from light One path runs from another Higher point falls to lower Somebody will try in future And will meet blindness in coverTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
