States Of Melancholic Transmissions
Sleep, Sleep, Sleep
A funeral will take place.
Cymbals of war, clouds of dust
Shards of mirror, my blood and saliva
My skins, my ashes, my cells
My past, my burden, my back.
My flesh is eradicating
My eye is rotting
Someone, someone
Please come near, I am not emitting any lights.
A funeral will take place.
Cymbals of war, clouds of dust
Shards of mirror, my blood and saliva
My skins, my ashes, my cells
My past, my burden, my back.
My flesh is eradicating
My eye is rotting
Someone, someone
Please come near, I am not emitting any lights.
Credits
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