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This Touch. last touch. this touch.
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won't break me.
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a word too soft to be spoken.
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wrapped in barbed wire.
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and traveling amongst the charred, fields of snow.
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i have become.. wounded.
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for the souls lost in this display of self rightous ideals.
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break for im the one who deserves this pain.
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the innocent will find.
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the innocent will find their place in heaven.
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this pain will not stop.
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i now dispose of you.
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one by one their souls will take you over.
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the pain of thousands, your time has come.
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to think you have broken us down.
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you have not. the innocent are free now.
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and you're condemned.
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-----------------
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Charred Fields Of Snow
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| a static lullaby |
