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Song title:
Salem - Creating Our Sins
Edit By:
18.191.202.72
Times flies, It stays up high above the ground. I try to come to terms With my future tense. I despise conformity, The lies, the clenched fists. I wish that I could feel, Touch of sanity. I wish that I could, Touch of sanity. Lies of concrete. As hard as stone, as cold as steel. Dry bones, broken. Help me, please, I need to feel. Times flies, It stays up high above the ground. I try to come to terms With my future tense. They want me to die. The memory of pain I've known, Piercing, poignant pain. I vow to never feel again. I despise conformity, The lies, the clenched fists. I wish that I could feel, Touch of sanity.
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