These roots, once wrapped up in cotton.
Fade and break to a summer forgotten.
They twist and scorn in a marauders bed.
Feasting on lies within that head.
And wake tomorrow black and rotten.
These roots, once wrapped up in cotton.
Fade and break to a summer forgotten.
They twist and scorn in a marauders bed.
Feasting on lies within that head.
And wake tomorrow black and rotten.