My knuckles are pale
Bloody fists of memories
A kind of love, dangerous
I tattoo myself, to remember
Who i am
To be invisible
Don't wanna be
The person i see
In empty rooms i'm nothing
I hear you whisper and cry
In empty rooms i'm nothing
Here are no summertimes
This cage is my propper place
The semon of self, alone to face
Walls of deception surround every head
Am i still alive, or already dead?
When i look in the mirror
The reflection i hate
'Cause it depicts my fate of a stupid life
That turned into fight
In empty rooms i'm nothing
I hear you whisper and cry
In empty rooms i'm nothing
Here are no summertimes.
-Sigwulf.

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