Screaming to the atmosphere, where the moon shine her beautifully shine.
Sitting here alone, see the caremony under the moon.
I hope I can torn my bass guitar just like before, like vulnerabe melodies.
Stick this cigarette in the corner of the my lips, don’t want to burn it up.
Burning angel wings to dust, and I will love all my lose.
Hear the wishmaster wishper in my ears, the sound stability more louder.
and it start to burning my head… I scream again to the atmosphere.
Visigoth is not a scorn !!!!