It is blood by your mistakes- it is ink in your soul. It is deep of your whiskey. It is closed door.
This is like a bullet that scratches the brain. This is a thoughtful duet memory of our pain.
(When all) Comes down to the lows. You lose your face. Oh, which day you spend with looks out of space.
Well, I'm so fucking alone. I'm tired hear the lies. I drink, and bottle is raped. When I will see the better side?
When all tired and alcohol seems nasty, then break his heart easily. And when it all
Comes down to the fucked shit. I lose my trains. Oh, which day I spend to look at rails. AND I WHAIT When I will stop the drinking, when I will stop fucked my mind. And when I will see the better side in my life. But now:
It is blood by my mistakes- it is ink in my soul. It is deep of my whiskey. It is opened door.