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• Artiste: Prayer For Cleansing
• Titre: The Closet
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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Grief continuing, clouds decending Your will to die, fettered by life. Veins swell with pious blood, light shines through cracks in leaves Sylvan branches rustle softly when the nascent night breathes. A tortuous path carved by rows of lilacs, what excites their pale dead hue The rose hangs her head in rue. A harrowing night in May, the 23rd day of whispering rain Cascade ever foreboding thoughts and drown these smiles that express disdain. He trembled as he sighed. His memory effaced by frames of dead and lies. His life viewed from afar. His wrists carried a myriad of fucking scars. Rosemary evergreen and safe hangs 'round hte asylum of my throat. In remembrance of his breath filched by a tousled, hanging rope. Four walls beacame your empty coffin In a reclusive grave built by the sea. Sixteen tears have caressed my cheek. A lone anemone, you've abandoned me. Door creaks open Your corpse is found. Death beings Sorrow abounds.