Слова:
Death Comesto Matteson A Non Fiction Ep

There's a certain slant of light falling onto my floor its the color of your eyes and of dress you wore and this crumbling tower of me plumbets quickly

I bring my filthy rags into this storehouse of your love i wear my love of flesh into the presence of your perfection and you rip the veil uncover my

You measure your days in hours you measure your hours in kisses you measure your kisses in dreams come true you measure you dreams in years if what