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There's no intro

To quicksands to come
All fades in a slow decay

If pain was a spark
You'ld sworn your flesh to the dark

Between your claws the sand will flow
No way for him to stay like years ago

Only your hand could grab the wind
That dead instant: the future unseen

Picture the plan to yourself
Summon remains of your being
Right angle explodes the shell
In a pinball energy
At random overcome

When you felt your feet have disappeared
Only your hand could grab the wind
Speak to me now - Batten yourself down

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