29 acessos
And I know winter will pass by slow
Without my heart what can I do?
In the halls a bell gives way to a larger swell
Without my heart what can I do?
Oh, Wroclai
And we grow fat on the charms
Of our idle dreary days
Seen the shadows grow
See an ominous display
With no alarm
Couldn't say we'd have expected this way
Under stars have died
Decadence to play
Mount Wroclai