Our fingers are missing they litter the ground grass will never grow near
this town again the frames on the walls are crooked and empty these 
shoulders bend low towards the dirt I made a deal to get us out of 
this place but I am falling apart with each step I take and as the 
pieces fall I count them all.
    Página 1 / 1

    Letras y título
    Acordes y artista

    restablecer los ajustes
    OK