Paroles de Flies
I have condemned myselfTo disconcert and, well...
See the falling fire?
To the falling fire
I, worshiper of myself,
I can barely fill
The space between my hands
The space between my hands
I've gotten tired of the Superlamb
Of the hysterical complaint of the ill-working
Of the mantras, Christ, of the mantras
Of the dead and the flies
I have condemned myself
To disconcert and, well...
See the falling fire?
To the falling fire
--------------------------------------------
I have condemned myself
To disconcert and, well...
I've gotten tired of the Superlamb
Of the histerical complaint of the ill-working
See the falling fire?
Of the falling fire
The space between my hands
The space between my hands
I've gotten tired of the Superlamb
Of the hysterical complaint of the ill-working
Of the mantras, Christ, of the mantras
Of the dead and the flies
I have condemned myself
To disconcert and, well...
See the falling fire?
To the falling fire
--------------------------------------------
I have condemned myself
To disconcert and, well...
I've gotten tired of the Superlamb
Of the histerical complaint of the ill-working
See the falling fire?
Of the falling fire
Paroles powered by LyricFind
