Withered roses crisp underneath my feet
As I head my steps for the outside
The soles of my feet meet grey concrete
But I feel not the grinning cold
Life stays so silent
A deserted battlefield
The hair is all covered in dust
As the wind gently caresses and lifts it
[Chorus]
I am trying to die I think
I am trying to fill the void
With death's every poison
And death's every spite
So come, oh come, oh please come then
In the cold breeze levitates a gross of seeds
My dry eyes move slow and scattering
And meets in some distant form of slumber the landscape and it's vast void
(Repeat verse 2)
(Repeat chorus)
Writer(s): Par Orjan Johansson, Magnus Lars Alakangas
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