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The Pact (The Eye Of The Jackal)
Existence as a constant disease...
Anything forthcoming is stained with the absorption of a new torment
The time is running and I don't want to find any escape
Black coma
Fed up with rotted joys melted with daily pain...
F*** my life and f*** myself
Each night is one more step to the end...
And I know the end is coming soon
Black coma
My shotgun has the shape of a glass
Which slowly sucks my essence out
Drink and swell 'till the world doesn't exist...
Worse is the future and forever will be...
Black coma
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* Gracias a Tiezok por haber añadido esta letra el 13/1/2010.
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