Слова:
Зимове Сонцестояння The Fall Of Rome

Calibrate the virus Fold down the edges and call openness fatalistic Count to ten; close your eyes Carrying your dismay by the buckets full Dumping them

Even your martyr wears his best suit to this affair logical reasoning is something you should shoot for I'll aim for the sky myself soaring above our

Staring at a tree split in two Asking yourself if you can mend it's natural bane Perseverance falls to the floor shattering into a million pieces Categorizing

One day at a time You count your blessings Then continue to court mine So cautious you are yet you throw yourself into the gears with ease I've fallen

no sign of the sun But your wait calmly playing checkers with your gut instinct On the contrary to the heart's self-imprisonment Your horse shoes fall