The hand that smothers all dreams Can never be lifted From your tormented lips Flew the infinity of pain Cut down the voice And let the echoes rise To those dark clouds above That hate our freedom
Before the arrival Of the final Silence You wished for the bright, liquid fire The coldest silver Like the purifying rain To take you away To take you away
Down in your pit Where your broken body lies I stare into your silence Your eyes reflect the sky
Far away Out of your reach Those quicksilver cloudsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.