Under a bridge that warms up in time
The bitter cold of the next day
When the winter of its white gloves
Blows a wind that burns the hands
Flashback of hysterical mother
Zoom in on her father's fist
Running into a credits scene
Has a name
To escape the dark fate
when the old decor rumbles
Spitting on looking good
The sting in the wounded soul
Walking for miles
br/>and crossing the years
Park bench and public bath
Caravan of lost dogs
In the straightest of obliques
The descent no longer feels
To escape the dark fate
When the old scenery rumbles
Escape the fate
Under a bridge that warms up in time
The bitter cold of the next day
When the winter of his white gloves
Blows a wind that burns the hands
We found his body

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS