Из альбома: The Burning Sons
The pain from the past
That I wear as a mask
With every day I live and breathe
I’m here, you’re there, lost count of the distance
On a winding road to nowhere
Pour yourself a glass
Sit and count the scars
Relive, recall the memories
I’m here, you’re there, lost count of the distance
On a winding road to nowhere
I read the words on the paper
Tried to fill in the blanks
Found the song of failure
Just myself to thank
We fought we lost
Then tore ourselves apart
We fought we lost
Lay the pieces together
We fought we lost
Then tore ourselves apart
We fought we lost
Failure! Failure!
Failure! Failure!
Battles fought and lost
I’m here, you’re there, lost count of the distance
On a winding road to nowhere
The song of failure
The song of failure