Artista:
Pig
Albúm:
Enviado por:
admin
Doubting, tryingNot to look at the face if the man who is dyingTo look for the face of the man who is lyingThe ambler gambler is low and loadedHis rusty steed turns to burn into my soulI hear the criesMy body lies in sanctuaryThe long way home I cannot seekHe knows the pain its special placeI know its look I know your faceWhite silver draws black linesBright whites the killing kindTwo wrongs dont make a rightTwo blacks dont make a whiteDevotion isnt what it seemsThe broker of my broken dreamsHell is all what I can seeMy cell is my sanctuaryTheres a black space where my soul should beA gaping wound where my heart could beI feel so low I feel like ChristI see my head is turning whiteThe knuckles twisted raw and Im so emptyAnd theres no respiteYou prey together on the smallHell vision shows it every nightWhite silver draws black linesBright whites the killing kindTwo wrongs dont make a rightTwo blacks dont make a whiteDevotion isnt what it seemsThe broker of my broken dreamsHell is all what I can seeMy cell is my sanctuary
