Woorden: Overkill. Necroshine. My December.
When I look into your eyes, it keeps me together
When I hear your private lies, I don't feel any better
Clouds will gather over me, rain will soak me down
As I remember, my December
Just to the left, upon what is left
Upon the left side of the dawn
Leaving the traces, forgotten the faces
Of the last December morn
Nothing but the truth is all I wanted
Everything I had was always counted
Clouds will gather over me, lightening strike me down
As I remember, my December
Just to the left, upon what is left
Upon the left side of the dawn
Leaving the traces, forgotten the faces
Of the last December morn
From the hand of God that squeeze me
To the firestorm that feeds me, in my December
In a world too much for the likes of a man
Who can't remember
Clouds will gather over me, in misery I drown
In my December, my December
Just to the left, upon what is left
Upon the left side of the dawn
Leaving the traces, forgotten the faces
Of the last December morn
From the hand of God that squeeze me
To the firestorm that feeds me, in my December
In a world too much for the likes of a man
Who can't remember
When I hear your private lies, I don't feel any better
Clouds will gather over me, rain will soak me down
As I remember, my December
Just to the left, upon what is left
Upon the left side of the dawn
Leaving the traces, forgotten the faces
Of the last December morn
Nothing but the truth is all I wanted
Everything I had was always counted
Clouds will gather over me, lightening strike me down
As I remember, my December
Just to the left, upon what is left
Upon the left side of the dawn
Leaving the traces, forgotten the faces
Of the last December morn
From the hand of God that squeeze me
To the firestorm that feeds me, in my December
In a world too much for the likes of a man
Who can't remember
Clouds will gather over me, in misery I drown
In my December, my December
Just to the left, upon what is left
Upon the left side of the dawn
Leaving the traces, forgotten the faces
Of the last December morn
From the hand of God that squeeze me
To the firestorm that feeds me, in my December
In a world too much for the likes of a man
Who can't remember
Overkill
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