Letra de The Style Is Death

Under the cold of tears she'll decay and be warm
The style is death. A white rose in a morphine dream
A joke to amuse life. Goodbye into a snowstorm
While you shake the thoughts, memories of conversation
Come back the line like eager sadness
A knife hollows them out. Hollows them out
A thin skin of black letters. A thin skin of black letters
I make myself sick. Born with thoughts of disappointment
Hands out, palms dry. Give me somеthing to grasp
False truth or fake hope. Wе say yes to death
A joke to amuse life. Goodbye into a snowstorm
While you shake the thoughts, memories of conversation
The style is death
The style is death
The style is death
The style is death