歌词
This sweetness that surrounded us, and bled with us...
We touched it, and it smelt far worse than ****s...
I have touched winds...
I have touched sorrows... (I touched the devil once...) ...and
I have touched the past...
It was like the love of thorns, like the beauty of dead summer.
But I, the lurker, the carrier of wounds outlived.
It. I have left now. (Have I not?)
The thorns embraced us, while resemblance dragged us further down.
It burried our minds.
None shall outlive this rhyme.......