The Tremor
(Indisponível)
Nothing hurts like the truth, a piece of perfidy, a deceitful behaviour,
women's lures, deserted like an empty corpse, an uneasy conscience.
Stigmatised in hell, he's puffed up with conceit,
there will come a day of retribution, they're just lost dreams,
cursed to crawl between hypocrites and vain promises,
my heart bleeds.
[CHORUS:]
The tremor of leaves in the breeze.
You can't weigh up, where does this road lead,
at whose door should the blame lie?
The lie lay heavy on his conscience.
[CHORUS]
|
|
