اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
My mind is ready to die
Seeds of infertility
Are growing into ghostly trees
Taken root in some selfish plea
Forgiven for being born ugly
And set free on a bitter wind
There is no high high enough
No love keeps you satisfied
A rotting eternity in your arms
Desperate lovers in an old house
Slowly burning through the ground
Will one day be entirely forgotten
Where little feet walk tall grass
