Knut Aim At The Sun
One too many burns
secluded in my sphere a
five minutes retreat
horizon and light
decrease promises
dry the ceiling is coming down on me
take me to the plague isle
take me there
with your short sight
and your narrow mind
your cage looks huge
take me to the plague isle
take me gone
I sure care for the light
your promises are dry
breathing hard feeling mean
take me gone
the light decrease
my face burned
aim
