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• Artiste: Shun
• Titre: Fear Of Heights
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I can see you've got your pictures on these walls, They've been there for a year. They say that you went crazy with your guns, Then you disappeared. You disappeared. Lie down on this cold floor, And listen to my worthless words. I will be heard. It's easy to complain when your the one, With a knife against your back, And I'm holding back. And if you wish to ever see, All that you hoped for it's a wasted plea. It's killing me now. We can make this happen, Doesn't matter if we try. We exist and make a mess of everything, Until we die. We can make this happen, Doesn't matter if we try. This existence is a measure of moments, UNTIL WE DIE. The things you never cared for inside A single digit bastard...who's dying. We're dying. We're dying. Lay down on this cold floor, And listen to my worthless words...