اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
Press the flowers to my chest, face towards the Sun
I fall back into the nothing
In blood and symbols of living my perfect nightmare
We turn, we turn on death
With words of passion, beauty held on high
They turn their heads, in truth but alone
Lips made of passion
Truth and alone
Behind the old soul we turn, we turn alone
