Conjurer - Scorn Lyrkit'te

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Scorn

Scorn

(albüm: I - 2016)

Awaken feeling weary and ailing
The world is cold with scorn
This bruised skin hangs loose from my bones
Crushed under my own weight

Unhook these claws, out from my back
Let my wounds weep

Cold with scorn

No matter how much I choke
It sticks in my lungs
I'll always hold that bitter taste
On my tongue

When the fabric of your being begins to fray, when your moral compass
Leaves you stranded, when all but blood is rushing through your veins
There's only one option you're left with... Take the strain

Cold with scorn

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