Woorden:
Your Demise Blood Ran Cold

out pure and if i cut your wrists i'm sure the blood won't run out pure the colours blue and gold S T A the blood ran cold...

run out pure and if i cut your wrists i'm sure the blood won't run out pure the colours blue and gold S T A the blood ran cold...

and be your own be yourself don't play the fool to anyone cause i might be the one with the gun pointed in your direction into your face. A pathway to