other lies Numbers and letters and letters Surfacing from a sea of Treacle blackened stone(? ) And carrying me back home I hear the language of flowers
Fordítás: Pale Saints. Nyelve Virágok.
kill by, autopilot my technique So even if I sleep on my own shit, it's still fly I'm God's only begotten renegade angel, saint sinner, make anemic hemmorhage
