when the moon rests
behind the hills
and things begin to undo themselves
givin you chills
you better hide
you better close you eyes and pray
before a warm bed
and clean walls
now a lonely wasteland
filled with hunger and distant calls
when you realize
your body is dematerializing
and thousands of arms
come to tear you body apart
and your cries seems
to be one ordinary desire for help
among the millions
that come from the river
of lost souls begging for forgiveness
you better hide, you better pray
when you see the emptyness
inside of you being replaced
by pain, suffering and guilt
hopeless are the prayers
hopeless are your hideouts
this is your own personal hell
you can't run
you can't deny
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário