I'm waiting with my arms up high
My eyes pulled tight to lines of worry
That you won't meet me here tonight
Am I reaching enough?
Am I reaching at nothing?
Am I reaching enough?
Am I reaching at all?
Tonight we will be disappointed together
This sickness for your hands abounding
Like some holy disease
A perfect symphony resounding
The Myriad еще тексты
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- The Myriad - We Will Be Disappointed Together (0)
- The Myriad - We Will Be (0)
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