1. |
Alone
07:52
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2. |
Try
03:46
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Why fly a dull gray sky
The weeds and the thistle spout a mayday cry
Tears are shed, lies are spread
And the lines repeat inside my head
The world is slipping through my hands
It’s dripping like a cold fine sand
Spinning with no end in sight, with no will to fight
There’s naught left but to try!
But what if I learn to crawl, again to fall, to lose it all?
But what if I take a stand, make all these plans, and it slips through my hands?
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3. |
Solace
04:26
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4. |
414C4F4E45
08:14
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