The Crawling - End of the Rope | Текст песни

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• The Crawling
• End of the Rope

So alone, and so cold.
You mourn yourself every day.
Still cannot speak, still cannot see.
And yet they still scream.

Blood runs cold.

A gentle sway, the bough breaks.
Her hair flows long in the wind.
Down will fall cradle and all.
And yet you don't scream.

Blood runs cold.

Left to rot into the earth.
A memory that will fade.
I can’t recall, it’s all gone black.
Did she ever have a name?

Her blood runs cold.
Bring her home.

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