I can feel time growing red on my hands
Howling its way through the body

Those who cross the river, they resist to consent
The games we play through the summer

Rising from the bull-blistered mountains of laughter
I say we drag them through silence

I can feel time growing red on my hands
Howling its way through my body

The hysterical roar
It still serves me fine
Bleda: this horse will not touch the ground
And I’ll keep my hands aside

I can feel time growing red on my hands
Howling its way through the body

Those who cross the river, they resist to consent
The games we play through the summer

The hysterical roar
It still serves me fine
Bleda: this horse will not touch the ground
And I’ll keep my hands aside
Bleda: this horse
Will never touch the ground
The hysterical roar it still serves me fine
So I’ll keep my hands aside

In a sole second winter is made
The gentle night is shredded into war
And before the sun saves us
A new question is raised
For the maze, it ends here
And here starts the maze



Lyrics submitted by gramdmori

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