The rope is taut, the neck begins to burst, While the patch in the corner laughs, Your blood no longer flows, the cold of the soul questions life,There is no time left, the echo fades And the hunger for emptiness swallows your trail.
Read next
The rope is taut, the neck begins to burst, While the patch in the corner laughs, Your blood no longer flows, the cold of the soul questions life,There is no time left, the echo fades And the hunger for emptiness swallows your trail.