Burnt Heaven کے بول

I'm living a mess Our clouds are upside down Waiting for the wind to pass My head remains closed The marks are printed Gray white clouds Who keep our broken hearts The seven keys The seven keys Who keep our broken hearts The seven keys Our veins seem to burst Fire takes tale of our eyes As you open the wings and flies through the skies I stand here In my little burnt heaven In my little burnt heaven In my little burnt heaven The clocks delayed They were unleashed by air We were like fragile glass And we are now fallen pieces on the floor The marks are printed Gray white clouds Guarding our broken hearts The seven keys The seven keys We will ask to return home To go back in time and fix The band-aids will not heal the wounds The band-aids will not heal the wounds The band-aids will not heal the wounds Ah, not heal the wounds Ah, not heal the wounds Our veins seem to burst Fire takes tale of our eyes Our veins seem to burst Fire takes tale of our eyes As you open the wings and flies through the skies I stand here In my little burnt heaven In my little burnt heaven In my little burnt heaven In my little burnt In my little burnt heaven In my little burnt heaven In my little burnt heaven In my little burnt heaven In my little burnt heaven Burnt heaven Burnt heaven Burnt heaven