B] This is the sound we make This is the forward pace This is not saving grace We are the rest of us We are the ambulance This is not glorious [Verse
Fordítás: Munka megnevezése. Ez nem Glorious.
On this level there is mystery, no one's around and I can't open the glorious door. This room is squeezing me and I know I'm leaving with everything mixed
Burn. I Burn in this Tomb of Fire. I Burn in this Tomb of Fire. I Burn in this Tomb of Fire. I Burn in this Tomb of Fire. ["The Burning Pits of the
