| Dreams are dead when you speak
|
| In my head they exist
|
| I am nothing put me down
|
| Usual wickness all around
|
| Should I stand to see
|
| That dreams are dead for me,
|
| That it’s still bleeding from inside?
|
| Should I stand to see
|
| That dreams are dead for me,
|
| That it’s still bleeding from inside?
|
| I am nothing when you speak,
|
| And my head can’t resist
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| Make it die and subsist
|
| It’s a lie that exist
|
| Should I stand to see
|
| That dreams are dead for me,
|
| That it’s still bleeding from inside?
|
| Should I stand to see
|
| That dreams are dead for me,
|
| That it’s still bleeding from inside?
|
| Be the worst, not the best
|
| Dreams of dust, not expressed
|
| I am nothing put me down
|
| It’s a lie that exist
|
| Should I stand to see
|
| That dreams are dead for me,
|
| That it’s still bleeding from inside?
|
| Should I stand to see
|
| That dreams are dead for me,
|
| That it’s still bleeding from inside?
|
| Should I stand to see
|
| That dreams are dead for me,
|
| That it’s still bleeding from inside?
|
| Should I stand to see
|
| That dreams are dead for me,
|
| That it’s still bleeding from inside? |