Circle Of Dead Children - Harvest At Dawn

 (versiyon 1)
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Everything around me shrinks and expands

Memories compacted

Fantasies extracted

Suspend me from the floor and push the ceiling nearer

This is just a reenactment of the thoughts projected from your eyes

The faces and names are not real

Only the tears, blood and glass are authentic

We link hands and dreams to become the map of the damned

Found a wound across my ribs, soft and fresh as a ballet shoe, to finger and feed

Memories flaccid

Fantasies reenacted

Finger and feed

Finger and feed













		
			



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