Song | Abyss |
Artist | Memento |
Album | Beginnings |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
Never will you find the reasons | |
Sand is just a broken stone | |
Love it changes with the seasons | |
In the dark | |
I read the lines upon your hand | |
Junkies, intellects and preachers | |
All addicted to your clans | |
Caged by ribs sits the believer | |
With less friends than fingers on one hand | |
When silence speaks free | |
When no one’s home | |
When cold and lucid | |
When bruised and torn | |
Look into your abyss | |
Nothing tastes like this | |
Look into.... | |
Is what you see here what you wanted? | |
No soft lens, no violins like the gray eyes of a dead man | |
The mirror always stares | |
I’ve got a little riddle in my head | |
What’s the little riddle in your head? | |
Look into your abyss |
Never will you find the reasons | |
Sand is just a broken stone | |
Love it changes with the seasons | |
In the dark | |
I read the lines upon your hand | |
Junkies, intellects and preachers | |
All addicted to your clans | |
Caged by ribs sits the believer | |
With less friends than fingers on one hand | |
When silence speaks free | |
When no one' s home | |
When cold and lucid | |
When bruised and torn | |
Look into your abyss | |
Nothing tastes like this | |
Look into.... | |
Is what you see here what you wanted? | |
No soft lens, no violins like the gray eyes of a dead man | |
The mirror always stares | |
I' ve got a little riddle in my head | |
What' s the little riddle in your head? | |
Look into your abyss |
Never will you find the reasons | |
Sand is just a broken stone | |
Love it changes with the seasons | |
In the dark | |
I read the lines upon your hand | |
Junkies, intellects and preachers | |
All addicted to your clans | |
Caged by ribs sits the believer | |
With less friends than fingers on one hand | |
When silence speaks free | |
When no one' s home | |
When cold and lucid | |
When bruised and torn | |
Look into your abyss | |
Nothing tastes like this | |
Look into.... | |
Is what you see here what you wanted? | |
No soft lens, no violins like the gray eyes of a dead man | |
The mirror always stares | |
I' ve got a little riddle in my head | |
What' s the little riddle in your head? | |
Look into your abyss |