Gold Leaves from Sleepers by My Own Prison

Our paths are separated.
We just have to remember they were.
Reminiscent of what is left,
at least what makes a good aspect.
We are leaves scattered by the wind.
Not throw in the towel,
thank you for having taught me!
And we... we'll wear more scars on the skin,
more and more awareness after the pain.
We had never thought it was the last time.
Once again, concrete rooms to sign a surrender.
Hearing anything cause the worst mood.
Call it pray, misunderstanding.
It's raining mud, covering our days
Giving a sense to nothing,
open the eyes against the walls.
Leaving no stone unturned.

• Metal
• Punk
• hardcore
• hardcore punk
• punk hardcore
• Cagliari