A hand on the hay, to some this is plenty food
Burning in daylight
They stop and they turn, I learned to surrender you
Return to believing the same
You may have lost, it was death to pretenders too
Taste of the cross, I was left with a tender wound
She's breathing again
Erased in a wash, it was death for pretenders too
You made leaving a game
You may have lost, it was death to pretenders too
Add Comment