2 acessos
Violins' screams of torture in my head...
Their bows are slicing my heart like wood.
And bleeding shavings are falling on my bed.
This dirty dust is spreading on the floor
I'm hanged up like meat on the ceiling.
And see my own wine, dripping from the ground
Get away (x3)
Before I worry about you
Get away (x3)
So good to leave this cocoon...