Song | Lost in the light |
Artist | Dikta |
Album | Get it together |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
So long my fallen friends and foes | |
A final fight dropped to the floor | |
In thousand pieces, pushed and pulled | |
A paradox, with a plan for the poor | |
A ten year old stands tall and talks | |
And tries his best to tell us his tale | |
Of shadows, hurt and spiteful sins | |
And summers spent hiding his trail | |
Open yourself to him | |
One more time, one last time (on your own, on your own) | |
This time you‘ll go for it | |
Stop it all, end it all | |
In spite of searching for your soul | |
A final fight dropped to the floor | |
In thousand pieces, waiting | |
For anything to pull you apart | |
But you never made your move | |
Petrified, paralyzed, poisoned by fear | |
And praying for help |
So long my fallen friends and foes | |
A final fight dropped to the floor | |
In thousand pieces, pushed and pulled | |
A paradox, with a plan for the poor | |
A ten year old stands tall and talks | |
And tries his best to tell us his tale | |
Of shadows, hurt and spiteful sins | |
And summers spent hiding his trail | |
Open yourself to him | |
One more time, one last time on your own, on your own | |
This time you' ll go for it | |
Stop it all, end it all | |
In spite of searching for your soul | |
A final fight dropped to the floor | |
In thousand pieces, waiting | |
For anything to pull you apart | |
But you never made your move | |
Petrified, paralyzed, poisoned by fear | |
And praying for help |
So long my fallen friends and foes | |
A final fight dropped to the floor | |
In thousand pieces, pushed and pulled | |
A paradox, with a plan for the poor | |
A ten year old stands tall and talks | |
And tries his best to tell us his tale | |
Of shadows, hurt and spiteful sins | |
And summers spent hiding his trail | |
Open yourself to him | |
One more time, one last time on your own, on your own | |
This time you' ll go for it | |
Stop it all, end it all | |
In spite of searching for your soul | |
A final fight dropped to the floor | |
In thousand pieces, waiting | |
For anything to pull you apart | |
But you never made your move | |
Petrified, paralyzed, poisoned by fear | |
And praying for help |