Outline (The)
Death To Our Enemies
We fold, in cold
Lonely but never quite alone
We're told, grow old
The young, once flesh, now sculpt to stone
We sold our soul
The spring of life we've left and grown
In bold, script code
The choice is chalk
The path is known
Over and over you told her to die
Why must it always be this way?
From Letras Mania