умер шут, он воровал минуты
In my hands, I hold the ashes
In my veins, black pitch drums
In my chest, a fire catches
In my way, the setting sun
Dark clouds gather 'round me
Due northwest, the soul is bound
And I will go on ahead, free
There's a light yet to be found
...
In my veins, black pitch drums
In my chest, a fire catches
In my way, the setting sun
Dark clouds gather 'round me
Due northwest, the soul is bound
And I will go on ahead, free
There's a light yet to be found
...