Testi

It's rotten soil, this heart of mine, Broken harvest over and over again. Your soothing warmth has turned to chill. There's nothing holding me back here Ever and ever again. Wherever I turn my head, My soul is getting cold. The more that I think of you, The less I care. Now it's time to burn down the houses, To cut down the trees, to free the dogs. Fueled and loaded is the truck that I call my life. There's a line pointing out, ahead – away from you. Wherever I turn my head, My soul is getting cold. The more that I think of you, The less I care. The throne that you're sitting on Will go up in flames. The more that I think of you, The less I care. All I left in the fire first felt like a loss. Things are comin' back now and speed up my trip. Like every ship on the ocean, seeks for harbour I'm strained trying to find, to find home, to find home again. Mile after mile, too many distractions, Too many thoughts lead to no love at all. No love at all means confusion. The road to nowhere saves my soul. Wherever I turn my head, My soul is getting cold. The more that I think of you, The less I care. Wherever I turn my head, My soul is getting cold. The throne that you're sitting on Will go up in flames. Ashes and bones are what remains.
Writer(s): Sons Of Morpheus Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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