Aathma - Oaks | Текст песни

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• Aathma
• Oaks

Pines, oaks, wind blows
We march flesh and blood

Pines, oaks, wind blows
We march flesh and blood

Outshine dead mind
Pines, oaks, dirt crows


Outshine
Dead mind
Outshine
A dead light

You drag me down
And all I see is darkness
You push me down,
Now I am the blindman


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