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  • Yasemin Mori

    Muşta → превод на английски

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Knuckle Duster

The hum of the night is howling in my head again,
claret snowflakes are falling in front of me!
His mysteries are like Gordian knots, floating in the rooms
His footprints are there to haunt me
They are looking for me, they are asking about me, the cops are finding me
 
I put my imaginations into words and faced them,
Am I an imagination? Am I a reality? I chased and then stopped.
The voice of the siren is calling,
It struggles more and more
 
My skull is heating up,
His steps are following me, his breath is winding around me
They are looking for me, they are asking about me, the cops are finding me
He is coming face to face with me, He is knocking me off the balance, He is wearing a glass knuckle duster on his hand
 
Wearing a knuckle, a knuckle
Wearing a knuckle, a knuckle
Wearing a knuckle, a knuckle duster
 
I hung up my clocks, my scales, and stopped
Like a fleeing bunny, I was chased, I ran and then stopped
The voice of the siren is calling,
It strugles more and more
 
My skull is heating up,
His steps are following me, his breath is winding around
They are looking for me, they are asking about me, the cops are finding me
He is coming face to face with me, He is knocking me off the balance, He is wearing a glass knuckle duster on his hand
 
Wearing a knuckle, a knuckle
Wearing a knuckle, a knuckle
Wearing a knuckle, a knuckle duster
 
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Yasemin Mori: 3-те най-преглеждани
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