World War Four - Wither - Sözleri

Weak and feeble,

gaunt and drawn

Pins and needles,

crown of thorns



Bring me not your cup of pain

bring no more your dirty stain



In my sleep you come you creep

In my veins the pain runs deep



And I creep I crawl,

I seethe and I crave

I wither, I waste,

alone I rage



Bring me not your cup of pain

bring no more your dirty stain



In my sleep you come you creep

In my veins the pain runs deep



And I wither



Bring me not your cup of pain

bring no more your dirty stain



In my sleep you come you creep

In my hands the pain runs deep










		
			



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