A subtle gentle breeze from over
A dark black mountain the wind starts to blow
Omens the advent of uncertainty,
A calm death lies unpleasantly
Rowing this time, rowing for my life, Rowing.
Is this how it all begins?
Way far from the sun.
Should I go on?
Death seems near, whispering
"Come on dance with me my friend
You have never ceased to be And never will,
you do know "death" It's just a word, right? "
Этот текст прочитали 136 раз.