The men whom you erected statues for
All tasted dirt, now are dead
All the shiny things you cried for
Now don't hurt, erased from your head
Not even a hero or death will save you
When you're face to face with your remorses
Your corpse will be taken away from you
Satan will be the one who teases
Who said it will be like that
Maybe you will endure and win
Book of deeds will be read
Maybe forgetting is a sin
Kayıt Tarihi : 19.10.2024 19:27:00
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