Plague Of Ashitaka - The Birds Are Spies, They Report To The Trees | Текст песни

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• Plague Of Ashitaka
• The Birds Are Spies, They Report To The Trees

You stabbed my throat, murdered in silence I know the feeling,
Every day feels like your last.
You have hardly said a thing that matters,
The lies disrupt from these gentle waters, grace me with your presence!
Our romance,
You fucking harlot,
Is beauty with a gun in its mouth.
You're jaded,
You fucking whore,
Let me set this trench in the ground.
There's no escape, this is our fate,
We are the saints, forged in desperate lies.
There's no escape, this is our fate,
We are the saints, forged in desperate times.
With every dream you have, I dream I'm there-
The darkest silhouette, carved from the brightest light,
My Dear Sweet Agony!
Cut them through their fucking knees!
I touched the sky, but It doesnt matter anymore.
I kissed your life, but it doesnt matter anymore.
You would not see through this - take flight!
Enjoy this moment now,
My Dear Apocalypse.
The sky burns a morbid black, we bleed together.
Into the abyss and rotting to our grave.
Nocturnal fiends, have yet to break the day.
We greet the new dawn, a thousand shades of grey.
I stand on different lines,
As we dance on twisted knives.
I stand on different lines,
As we dance on twisted knives.
But I would die just to talk to you again.
But I would die just to see your face again.
Knife to the skin intestines spill,
Death, our only certainty.

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