Little Pony1 min 174 1 min 174
Thoughts of grey
To the edges of the head
Carelessly here, to be fed.
Upon the words, we've been counting
Truth we spilled here
The smokes are out onto our way
And there shall be a rain of disgracing
The flesh starts decaying.
One thing I've been thinking
Am I the only one betrayed by you
The voice of your innocence, can't be true.
Church is silent
With the misery of my life
Lost in my crime
It's simple, as that of a hymn.