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The Wilde Flowers - text

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Sun hangs high, I turn away
Failure underground
Heart is sick and fever is high
Waiting for a sound

Like a trail of insects to me
I watch them from afar
Feeding, breeding, scheming
Tell me I am wrong

Hiding from discovery
Staring down into the ground
Had they seen the posion in me
A tide of spite wound be found

Moving faster lingering gaze
Feasting on my sanity
A grain of sand against endless waves
A wish for the slaughter of conformity

Blinding light as the flames grow higher
Searing skin on a funeral pyre
Blinding light as the flames grow higher
Searing skin on a funeral pyre

Inside me sleeps a violence waiting to be freed

Blinding light as the flames grow higher
Searing skin on a funeral pyre
Blinding light as the flames grow higher
Searing skin on a funeral pyre

Blinding light and the flames grow higher
Searing skin on a funeral pyre
Should I speak and they'll call me a liar
I'll retreat to my funeral pyre

My sanctuary, a thousand centuries
I'm not waiting, I'm tired of waiting
I'm not waiting, I'm tired of waiting
I'm not waiting, I'm tired of waiting
I'm not waiting

Text přidal EnziStuff

Video přidal EnziStuff

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