Из альбома: Cliche

It is my fault
The guilt I try to stop
Your wooden eyes
Your creepy glorious smile

This time of year
I want to dissapear
To go away
To travel far away

Who are you to judge
Who are you to hide behind the line
Who are you to judge

Destroyed lungs
Black cats, my princess touch
I'll find the way
In things I love to hate

I'm flying away

This is my fault

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