- cifra
Oh, the empires calling
Trying to hear his voice
While he's preaching to the choir
And that choir is death and noise
And he closes up his fist, and he sees if they exist
Angels with broken wings
Melodic harmonies she sings
She brings you white daffodils
You place them on your windowsill
Then you open up your fist, and you see if they exist
Well you sit in dark forests
You've been there for quite a while
And when they come to take you
You just sit and smile
You say: Hey, you take this
I'M gonna see if you exist
Now it's time to leave here
And I still have my knife
And it's pressed up against my body
Tonight's gonna be the night
And I cut my own wrist, just to see if I exist
