Tuesday 10 November 2009 photo 5/5
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3o-WfcdX-2U Bra låt!
Time is the fire in which we burn.
The bitter ash and dust of hate choke what remains.
So don't breathe a mote about fate or faith,
'cause those words and their toll leave so many so
cold.
And the story's so old yet it never gets told
but it's written in the scars on the wrists of the
lost
in the cold of life.
Yeah, my mother was raped at nine years old. Hoo-ah'!
I guess good ol' fashioned poverty and a violent drunk
of a dad was not cliche enough.
So fate tore away her faith on that secret day.
Torn along with her hymen.
Still somewhere in time there's still a little bloody
girl of nine.
Hey Ma, you know.
Been burned? Yeah, life is cold.
Hey Ma, you've screamed and somewhere lost in time you
scream.
But life goes on.
Yeah, life goes on.
So life goes on.
Time is the fire in which we burn.
The bitter ash and dust of hate choke what remains.
So don't breathe a mote about fate or faith,
'cause those words and their toll leave so many so
cold.
And the story's so old yet it never gets told
but it's written in the scars on the wrists of the
lost
in the cold of life.
Yeah, my mother was raped at nine years old. Hoo-ah'!
I guess good ol' fashioned poverty and a violent drunk
of a dad was not cliche enough.
So fate tore away her faith on that secret day.
Torn along with her hymen.
Still somewhere in time there's still a little bloody
girl of nine.
Hey Ma, you know.
Been burned? Yeah, life is cold.
Hey Ma, you've screamed and somewhere lost in time you
scream.
But life goes on.
Yeah, life goes on.
So life goes on.