8 acessos
a mass of breathing souls
for times are desolate
passing judgement on my sentence
as i perceive my dying day
give me a promise.
the word i will never hear
sympathies forging, stalling in me
i'm closing all the doors
while my frown remains
until i reach my golden haven
i'll let the sadness pass my way
preaching the words of angels, to a darker side of man
my halo's fading with all the sin i deal
have i been banished, 'a forgery'
sear, the tender feeling as my solar glow dies
and i'm waiting for my sweet hell
you'll wait for 'your' hell, i wish you hell...
in time the hate corrodes
our brains are desolate
and this prison which we serve in
will be a witness to our pains
preaching the words of angels, to a darker side of man