Track byDisarmonia Mundi
Find your way to wither At least make a choice For you ain't nothing special But I know you know Time to seal my future To give up the masquerade Set the stones, define the circle I am on my way Reconcile your little empty Mindless absurdities Oh my little, little brat Why don't you take a bite right off me? A narrow escape Yet shadow takes on a more definite shape Formation riding on a wave of ends Allusive to the flowing tide of innuendo Duration reaching out for breathing time A fall in on the rise, at heart Now be a Slave and spend your every single day in vain Or react to the fact that you Might as well be gone tomorrow I can't deny I'll never comply With your static forms and rules Who made who, who claims to be true Tiny midgets on parade Perceptions roar Emerging from oblivion Resemble grief Among the ruins of tragedy