At The Gates The Fevered Circle текст песни, слова песни The Fevered Circle At The Gates

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At The Gates - The Fevered Circle

Each day a mournful pity
Life looks upon you with scorn
Hopes flee, visions elude
As your feeble breath is turn

Six sinister thorns of beaty
The claws of the nondivine
Our right to breathe
Our right to bleed
Forever denied

What some seek in the depths of the unknown
Need not be sought so far
The truth of what we are

Each day a fevered circle

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Следующий текст песни: At The Gates - The Flames Of The End