Blood Of Winter Songtext
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The blood of winter sets its standards high
Between the wake of autumn and the casket's eye
These roots in the soil, from the petals in the sky
Grace fell again to its bloody tomb
Like a vacant lot, Like a virgins womb
Between the wake of autumn and the casket's eye
These roots in the soil, from the petals in the sky
Grace fell again to its bloody tomb
Like a vacant lot, Like a virgins womb
I'm on the hunt for reasons
not to sleep through all the seasons
So i pray to my ceiling
But the tiles never respond
My fingers clasped with the innocence
Of an altar boy guzzling blood
not to sleep through all the seasons
So i pray to my ceiling
But the tiles never respond
My fingers clasped with the innocence
Of an altar boy guzzling blood
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