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"When sorrow comes in summer days, roses bloom in vain.
A tale that weaves a cursed malaise to bloat and blacken tongues, tied in pain.
Bloody vows portending harm.
A knife begets the oath across the palm. Let the promise drip.
Story-spinning survival machines
Colored by contagions,
Spreading for their own sake,
Sporadically imparting value.
Ubiquity doesn't equal truth,
Merely fecundity.
They can kill us, enslave us,
Help us, or save us"

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