Текст: Pale Saints. Language of Flowers.

See me a snapshot
Narrating my previous life
And a mountain of other lies
Numbers and letters and letters
Surfacing from a sea of
Treacle blackened stone(? )
And carrying me back home
I hear the language of flowers
And now I don't hear anything else


Voices from nowhere seducing me
To all the lyrics(? ) of the world
The balance has been disturbed

Time stumbles drunkenly
Wild lives are frozen(? )
Until they're born again
Ripening in the sun
I hear the language of flowers
And now I don't hear anything else


I wasn't cut out for this
But my heart was(? )
I wasn't cut out for this