There's a cold hand
on a warm chest
with a cold heart within
You know that nothing last
but still hold on, to plant
paper flowers in the dirt
Christ should know
the lengths that I went
but hollow stones can't sink
And they fly no better
than a bird of clay, that
spreads its broken wings
It's all too late now
the sun has drowned
and the singing has begun
I'm none to wither with
and if I close my eyes
will it all just go away

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN