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  • 曲谱信息
  • 歌词
  • 标题:Creatures Of The Mire

    艺人:Woe of Tyrants

    节拍: Moderate ♩ = 215

    歌词:
    There is no foothold here in these miry depths
    Clawed fingers scraping flesh from bone
    Frantic laughter bubbling throughout
    Voice strained from screaming, parched and shrill

    With each breath comes an influx of my waste
    Beasts sovereign, circling, searching for their feast
    Their mouths foaming, sensing blood in the dirty water
    It's the primal craving which prevails disgust

    But how did I get here? The first of, oh, so many questions
    Delayed are the angel's melodies, ensnared in this bog
    But this place is familiar, the sites, the sounds, the face of the beast
    Breathing mirrors reflecting me, I share in their needs

    The absence of love, abundance of filth
    Left to consider the familiarity of my despair
    Deprived innocence, I am deserving of this place
    Entitlement, I have what I've chosen
    The virgin weeping, blackened eyes dripping contempt

    The frowning masks of the tragedy, many faces here

    With one final glare my head slips under the mud
    I reach, still finding nothing which I can grab
    To reach the surface again

    Dimming into dark is the heart that fades away
    I sink into the darkest deep
    Finally I give in to the hands' touch
    Embracing what they say

    I submit to the nightmare of the mire
    Finding solace in the choice to fall into breathing depths
    Depths, depths

    There is no foothold here in these miry depths
    Clawed fingers scraping flesh from bone
    Frantic laughter bubbling throughout
    Voice strained from screaming, parched and shrill

    There is no foothold here in these miry depths
    Clawed fingers scraping flesh from bone
    Frantic laughter bubbling throughout
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