It will be morning soon Although the lazy months to go home On the bench terminal your mind is marked
Anxious person feels discarded For a second he remembered a thousand fancies Crave nights continue to star Under the conscious fate of telling stories The warmth of the sun's heat of hell
Until when will you survive Scattered by the sky could not scream Black clouds surrender you lick You drown so sickly you're sick An awful morning you realize with trepidation Do not morning you present
Keep the night running Do not let it run you
Do not morning you bring Please and I hope
Do not let it run you Hear what god whispers
Nightmare on the terminal bench
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