But, With a Whimper

Can you hear the trumpets call?
Coming on the clouds of our eternal winter?

Our heavens shed not tears of pain
But of acid rain as the ashen feathers fall as snow

Give my love to those who stay behind in the
Form of a bullet, give to up the promise of an end



Credits
Writer(s): Marshall Austin Goppert
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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