Merge - Sacré Coeur | Текст песни

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• Sacré Coeur

They sound like vultures, still hope for a better future.
Give them a name or destroy my faith in medicine.
Parisian vanity for a bottled sanity.
Mother of all the lovers on which the sun never comes up.

Infected from the lungs, blame it on the girl next door, Pocket full of worms, you got nothing at all.

If there's a hope it must burn from my soul.
Living in a hole, I rather die alone.
If there's a hope it must burn from my soul.
Living in a hole, I rather die alone.

Stones are golden and teeth are scratching the floor again.
Painters are losing sight and my tie is smothering me.
Every morning, in every single dream, there's nothing left from me.
I'm wasting my time here, better have to reach the bridge.
Take a look over my shoulder, this city doesn't let the dead sleep.

If there's a hope it must burn from my soul.
Living in a hole, I rather die alone.
If there's a hope it must burn from my soul.
Living in a hole, I rather die alone.

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