Текст песни
A silent whisper of November's dry dead leaf
And smoke of fires along the road, the skies are cleaved
Splinter of burned lines cries just about my fear,
It's for a purpose, conscience's clear
My conscience is clear..
Dry bones of threes, the darkness jells, november ends-
The feeling's blood is drying out on your bear hands,
The crows are freezing in the snow, it seems to be the end of'a show
Just let it go...
Cold wind is blowing through the gaps, there is no aim
And we are proceeding with the same old useless game
Every your word is filled with lies, it hurts to see your empty eyes,
The stranger's eyes...
Novermber's whispering "forgive me,please don't cry"
There's no one's coming to save us, just you and I
So that's the point, I'll do it right
And there is nothing to rewrite but one last sight...
