- cifra
Here is the world they'll try to sell you
Here is the ache habituate
They'll have your eyes and they will hang your view
So high
Minus the world we find forgiveness
Minus the world she finds herself
Minus the wars/walls, she wouldn't hang her view
So low
Why did their eyes shadow and plague those creatures we portray?
Born into this unvariable mess, this bankruptcy - her and I have left
Paradox can un numb on me
Minus greed
You are growing cold
Minus belief
We are growing old
Minus our fears she is outspoken
Minus our hands she is clean
But in filth we destroy purity
Who's words conceived?
Sorrow and shame tingle and mend and get it endlessly
End of the day of diprevidation of make believe tranquillity
Minus the world we leave
Minus the world we live
Minus the world we live
