. .

It's blurred. The past, is what it is. Some days are imprinted, It's blurred. The past, is what it is. Some days are imprinted,

For the long-lasting imprints of life. For the long-lasting imprints of life.

You think I am waiting to die... You think I am waiting to die...

He could feel his sensations failing him. He could feel his sensations failing him.