Bitterness blows in the heart
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Like chilly draughts in the hall
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Of a crystal castle
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Lost among clouds made of gold
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Those anxieting visions
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Images behind frozen windows
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Make my eyes bleed
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Ebony blood
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When the silvergray fluid shall crack reality's walls
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Mixing with blood and filth as sirens swimming in pitch
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When the sweet arcades of these desperate our owns
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Trickle down upon yhe misery of this dead everyday life
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Like pitch on your wings
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Like a child lost in a war
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Like dark paint upon a shiny picture
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Like dirty sperm on a toy
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And whwn the new star will shine of its own black
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And there will be nowhere to shelter
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Maybe they'll understand who we are
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What we'll always cry for
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Sirens In Filth
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| Novembre |
