The Feeble Mind
Your flesh a shrine to my soul torn from bone dripping crimson red
Your time is now I dream of death on ready wings with nothing left
Light floods your eyes as you struggle bound in terror
Enveloped in the stench of morality
Tattered dolls found wrapped in plastic
Tortured souls freed from humanity
The feeble mind will pray to God the feeble mind will fall
Tenha acesso a benefícios exclusivos no App e no Site
Chega de anúncios
Badges exclusivas
Mais recursos no app do Afinador
Atendimento Prioritário
Aumente seu limite de lista
Ajude a produzir mais conteúdo