Were it not for your nervous nature you would'be become icon you would've become an image healing wounds with words you tell me these are the hymns that
(Spirits Of The Dead) Thy soul shall find itself crying alone Mid dark thoughts of gray tomb-stone Not one, of all the crowd Into the hour of horror
Translation: Sermon, Erick. S.o.d..
Translation: Stevens, Richie. S.o.d..
Translation: Will Young. S.o.d..