Fine Line کے بول

Absence is my religion Foray my words do speak Torn from my own incision This day forever bleak I stand in my own pity I crawl upon it's face I feel I am a victim For madness I can taste Sometimes I think of me Sometimes I think of you But most of all I know What more now can I do It all must pass to reason It all will fall from grace And now in my obsession It leads to such a waste Confronting my horizon It leads me cold and fray To touch will end in treason For this I cannot pay Sometimes I think of me Sometimes I think of you But most of all I know What more now can I do It all must pass to reason It all will fall from grace But now in my obsession It leads to such a waste