...and than she became older and left her friend in admirationstudded with bitter tears sickening falls the colourtaste for taste drowning in the nectar of cloudswhich pass the light blind and bleedingas the summer ever walks through winter's woods...those tales...stay far from me
I lie to myself... and still
I wishI woke up again in the shining of help freedom and immortality
I opened my hands and call for me... but any beauty has its thornsin the empty pictures of your life surrounded by radiance.in the dust of every little hope no one can seewhat happens in the end and you didn't want to see dry tears...
...and than she became older and left her friend in admirationstudded with bitter tears sickening falls the colourtaste for taste drowning in the nectar of cloudswhich pass the light blind and bleedingas the summer ever walks through winter's woods...those tales...stay far from me
I lie to myself... and still
I wishI woke up again in the shining of help freedom and immortality
I opened my hands and call for me... but any beauty has its thornsin the empty pictures of your life surrounded by radiance.in the dust of every little hope no one can seewhat happens in the end and you didn't want to see dry tears...