Rope کے بول

Portraits of hope reflecting of a blade that bears my name Hanging inches from my head There is no light bright enough to bring my shadow back to life A presence that the fortunate weren't predisposed to feel My seance of surrender will fall upon deaf ears Promises I have disowned appear before me Resembling the outline of my soul Unravel me, every sentence makes me sick Bound and abandoned by a noose that lifts me off my feet Hanging like a halo overhead, I knew your rope was made for me Fading, I fall backwards into the dust Positioned vertically, but a casket knows to catch me Buried only waist-deep in the earth We carve the fading features of our silhouettes into our coffin doors Hope is a blade that bears my name I knew your rope was made for me