Woorden:
Paint It Black Amnesia

a counterattack, lying face down on the floor? How do you expect to heed the call, blindfolded, back against the wall? Digging graves for the promised land? It

the wind beats against our hollow bones, we're only forced to run for shelter again. We're staring at different stars in the same night sky, and it's

ones with forked tongues have placed their bets. Their reliance on our silence marks the way that we will pay their debts. It's invisible and it kills