Blistered fingers persist and repeat and repeat and persist.
Towards the glistening dawn I attempt to dig myself some kind of shelter, but always end faced with prison after shadow and the failure at a new beginning.
Into dark caves my stuttering voice slowly walked, that place became a home in which I found the furnace flames a comfort that I am unable to betray.
Towards the glistening dawn I attempt to dig myself some kind of shelter, but always end faced with prison after shadow and the failure at a new beginning.
Into dark caves my stuttering voice slowly walked, that place became a home in which I found the furnace flames a comfort that I am unable to betray.