Vain inside, and forced to lie, on the edge of the world, now you stand so proud and grow
the sensation of the fortune on you, won't help you to grow stronger, but to grow all your wealth, not your heart
So hate me when you want
Join with the spite of luck
Thus do I die and gather day by day your own greed lies
You spent time to get rich
You spent your life alone
Thus do I die and gather day by day your own greed lies
I'm filling my moods with my rage for your overwhelming wins
you have all, you've always won
So are you to my thoughts
As flies swallow in mud
You win the ticket, the million dollar you love
You'd hate me now
My hands won't hold up your ass
Breed in greed, and lie again, 'till the end of your world, 'till the soil brings up your corpse
in the end of time, you will rise, facing a world you'll never know, 'cause you're dead to my eyes, a waste of time
I know that you've got friends
But they stab in your back
You'll realize this when you'll lie down dead on your rich ground
I've asked your help sometimes,
You turned your back with lies,
But all you've wanted was to keep your treasures safe from men
I'm filling my moods with my rage for your overwhelming wins
you have all, you've always won
I'm the only you closed out at the door of your life... you forget me
So are you to my thoughts
As flies wallow in mud
You win the ticket, the million dollars you love
You'd hate me now
My hands won't hold up your ass
Please drink from
my potion
I'll help you, my dear
This potion
Will stick you
Then you will be free
Oh, for my sake do you with Fortune chide,
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,
That did not better provide...
I'll pity you then, dear friend,
My pity is enough to cure you
Please drink from
my potion
I'll help you, my dear
This potion
Will stick you
Then you will be free
Whilst, like a willing patient, you will drink
potions of eisel 'gainst your strong infection;
I'll pity you then, dear friend,
My pity is enough to cure you.
This is for you
Vain inside, and forced to lie, on the edge of the world, now you stand so proud and grow
the sensation of the fortune on you, won't help you to grow stronger, but to grow all your wealth, now you're dead, buried alive.
The Joke
Autor: Tystnaden
Album: Sham Of Perfection
Metaphora
Autor: Tystnaden
Album: Sham Of Perfection
Rewards
Autor: Tystnaden
Album: Sham Of Perfection
Tystnaden
Autor: Tystnaden
Album: Sham Of Perfection
Hamlet
Autor: Tystnaden
Album: Sham Of Perfection