اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
This space
Not mine
A fragile body holding purest form of death
I'll crawl in cold, wakeful terror and clutch to my miracle
To the nothing I have left
I'm fallow
In the circles I traverse I have not felt
A sense of sin in my silence
A self in my sadness
This hand that I have dealt
Gaze toward a setting sun
Take time
Our dying ones
Our psalm is one of sorrow
Our psalm is one of pain
And bitterness of knowing
We'll never laugh again
The pit to hold our bodies
Was dug by those ordained
Our God is one of sorrow
Our God is one of pain
Those gone before
(Those gone before)
Spoken, no more
(Spoken, no more)
Those gone before
This face, not mine
A fragile body holding purest form of death
I 'll crawl in cold, wakeful terror and clutch to my miracle
To the nothing I have left
I'm shallow
In the circles I traverse I have not felt
A sense of sin in my silence
A self in my sadness
As I beg to
Gaze toward a setting sun
Take time
Our dying ones
Our psalm is one of sorrow
Our psalm is one of pain
And bitterness of knowing we'll never laugh again
The pit to hold our bodies
Was dug by those ordained
Our God is one of sorrow
Our God is one of pain
