Текст Rotting Christ – A Dead Poem
Текст:
It’s the season the trees die
The birds don’t sing nomore
The rivers never come back
Nature dies out
It’s the season the trees die
The birds don’t sing nomore
The rivers never come back
Nature dies out
Focus tomorrow’s horizon
Sorrow means no future
Cover my face
With my guilty hands
This tragic future
Destined to hurt never heal
What end can save me?
What good gives me an end?
It’s the season the trees die
The birds don’t sing no more
The rivers never come back
Nature dies out
It’s the season the trees die
The birds don’t sing no more
The rivers never come back
Nature dies out
First passion
Now is lost
A dramatic dead story
I killed all I have
My sadness translated into madness
I spell meaningless words
Nothing is innocent
Nothing is fair
I keep wondering
I keep wondering
How did I end up like this?
Focus tomorrow’s horizon
Sorrow means no future
Cover my face
With my guilty hands
This tragic future
Destined to hurt never heal
What end can save me?
What good gives me an end?
