Folklore

You are nothing special, that much is clear to me
When your color shifts to grey and your thoughts start to fade, you will find no sympathy

When the reaper calls ya, and your last words you're ready to speak
We will exchange lies, like we grew up fine, or I'll miss you
Get some sleep

I'm going home soon



Credits
Writer(s): Alex Lloyd
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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