Smoke outside I can only think of I can't find no believer,
I'm waiting time like I've never seen one,
It's passed 6 and I have deamons.
I'll wait outside at the door, I only think of, I can't find no beliver. The weight of life as you dig deeper in the cold mud of the deamon.
Smoking eyes of the southern deamon, he looks down as I dream of.
The weight of the world I can only see the sick rites of the evil.
I'll wait outside with the rope, I only think of, I can't find to beliver. The weight of life as you dig deeper in the cold mud of the deamon.
I can't find nothing else! Than dying out here like a rat.
I can't find nothing else! Than lying out here like I'm dead.
I, hide in my head. |
