Текст песни Way - Vore Complex
                                                On 
                                                its 
                                                black 
                                                spit 
                                                the 
                                                sun 
                                                still 
                                                turns
 
                                    
                                
                                                On 
                                                its 
                                                black 
                                                spit 
                                                the 
                                                sun 
                                                still 
                                                turns
 
                                    
                                
                                                All 
                                                seen 
                                                will 
                                                winter
 
                                    
                                
                                                All 
                                                seen 
                                                will 
                                                winter
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                light 
                                                is 
                                                angels 
                                                burning
 
                                    
                                
                                                On 
                                                its 
                                                black 
                                                spit 
                                                the 
                                                sun 
                                                still 
                                                turns
 
                                    
                                
                                                On 
                                                its 
                                                black 
                                                spit 
                                                the 
                                                sun 
                                                still 
                                                turns
 
                                    
                                
                                                All 
                                                seen 
                                                will 
                                                winter
 
                                    
                                
                                                All 
                                                seen 
                                                will 
                                                winter
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                light 
                                                is 
                                                angels 
                                                burning
 
                                    
                                
                                                These 
                                                hours 
                                                are 
                                                shaped 
                                                from 
                                                beaten 
                                                bronze
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                noonday 
                                                carving 
                                                summer's 
                                                sweat
 
                                    
                                
                                                As 
                                                blazing 
                                                air 
                                                digests 
                                                its 
                                                song
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                hours 
                                                are 
                                                shaped
 
                                    
                                
                                                So 
                                                swallows 
                                                stitch 
                                                their 
                                                silhouettes
 
                                    
                                
                                                Across 
                                                    a 
                                                light 
                                                that 
                                                lingers 
                                                long
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                know 
                                                that 
                                                they 
                                                will 
                                                soon 
                                                forget
 
                                    
                                
                                                On 
                                                its 
                                                black 
                                                spit 
                                                the 
                                                sun 
                                                still 
                                                turns
 
                                    
                                
                                                All 
                                                seen 
                                                will 
                                                winter
 
                                    
                                
                                                All 
                                                seen 
                                                will 
                                                winter
 
                                    
                                
                                                On 
                                                its 
                                                black 
                                                spit 
                                                the 
                                                sun 
                                                still 
                                                turns
 
                                    
                                
                                                All 
                                                seen 
                                                will 
                                                winter
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                light 
                                                is 
                                                angels 
                                                burning
 
                                    
                                
                                                These 
                                                hours 
                                                are 
                                                shaped 
                                                from 
                                                beaten 
                                                bronze
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                noonday 
                                                carving 
                                                summer's 
                                                sweat
 
                                    
                                
                                                As 
                                                blazing 
                                                air 
                                                digests 
                                                its 
                                                song
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                hours 
                                                are 
                                                shaped
 
                                    
                                
                                                So 
                                                swallows 
                                                stitch 
                                                their 
                                                silhouettes
 
                                    
                                
                                                Across 
                                                    a 
                                                light 
                                                that 
                                                lingers 
                                                long
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                know 
                                                that 
                                                they 
                                                will 
                                                soon 
                                                forget
 
                                    
                                
                                                Will 
                                                meadow 
                                                minds 
                                                keep 
                                                marching 
                                                on
 
                                    
                                
                                                When 
                                                ash 
                                                returns 
                                                to 
                                                claim 
                                                its 
                                                bet?
 
                                    
                                
                                                We 
                                                sense 
                                                the 
                                                other 
                                                path 
                                                is 
                                                gone
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                hours 
                                                are 
                                                shaped
 
                                    
                                
                                                Will 
                                                meadow 
                                                minds 
                                                keep 
                                                marching 
                                                on
 
                                    
                                
                                                When 
                                                ash 
                                                returns 
                                                to 
                                                claim 
                                                its 
                                                bet?
 
                                    
                                
                                                We 
                                                sense 
                                                the 
                                                other 
                                                path 
                                                is 
                                                gone
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                hours 
                                                are 
                                                shaped
 
                                    
                                
                                                On 
                                                its 
                                                black 
                                                spit 
                                                the 
                                                sun 
                                                still 
                                                turns
 
                                    
                                
                                                On 
                                                its 
                                                black 
                                                spit 
                                                the 
                                                sun 
                                                still 
                                                turns
 
                                    
                                
                                                All 
                                                seen 
                                                will 
                                                winter
 
                                    
                                
                                                All 
                                                seen 
                                                will 
                                                winter
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                light 
                                                is 
                                                angels 
                                                burning
 
                                    
                                
                                                On 
                                                its 
                                                black 
                                                spit 
                                                the 
                                                sun 
                                                still 
                                                turns
 
                                    
                                
                                                On 
                                                its 
                                                black 
                                                spit 
                                                the 
                                                sun 
                                                still 
                                                fucking 
                                                turns
 
                                    
                                
                                                All 
                                                seen 
                                                will 
                                                winter
 
                                    
                                
                                                All 
                                                seen 
                                                will 
                                                winter
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                light 
                                                is 
                                                angels 
                                                burning
 
                                    
                                 
                            1 Compassion Deficit
2 Mate
3 F.I.N.E.
4 Stock
5 Night Watch
6 Way
7 Definer
8 Touch
9 Mites
10 Know
11 Headache (Vore Complex Mix)
Внимание! Не стесняйтесь оставлять отзывы.
                 
                                                         
                                                         
                                                         
                                                        