In your hands I'm trying
In your hands I'm trying flight
I can't die
I'm flying in the cold breeze every night
In your hands I'm trying flight
I can't die
I'm flying in the cold breeze every night
Spare me all the strife
My desires never tire
But would it be much better if I died?
Petty highs get me by
But how much longer must I live with this disguise
Have you no direction?
I just sense pretentious signs
In your highs
I hear the same old stories every night
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Medusa
The Plague Within
Tragic Idol
Faith Divides Us – Death Unites Us
The Anatomy of Melancholy
In Requiem