Woorden:
Art Of Dying Art Of Dying

must leave here Then nothing sister Mary can do Will keep me here with you As nothing in this life that I've been trying Could equal or surpass the art of dying

Grip the bars that hold my mind And pace the cell that's stuck in time Immune to change and far from love I curse this world and God above Life is a

You live in your private hell Don't know if you're sick or well Something out there calls your name Too insecure to enter the game Life to you is a magazine

Enter the tomb of the old Mystery in ancient gold All that ever was foretold Cycle in constant change Temple of doom, rearranged Many tales remain the

Master of disguise move unseen Shadow on the night silent hunter Appetite aroused by the smell of your fear Driven by desire instinct and hunger And

Led to the slaughter by those who were there to protect Nailed to the cross then put on display to dissect Dignity stripped like flesh being ripped from

Words are spoken from the book of the dead Written in the blood of the ones who bled Foretelling the story of our destiny Shadow on the fate of humanity

Tonight I feel like the world won't miss me So much to say but there's no one listening If we're alone are we all together in that I threw a penny in

Watching you sleep, are you awake anymore Can you hear me, are you dreaming Hand out of reach, truly impatient like the flower Do you believe, can you