Budapest Ritmo beszámoló: katartikus bantu punk és folkvonat
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Crying
Mayberian Sanskülotts
Engrave the pale naught to your nape.
Then stroke your fingers on it.
I hear your heart's screaming from afar.
And there's nothing to soften this sound.
The getaway is a cairn
and i'ts be turned to us slowly.
Bury under itself
but i can hear the screaming.
But let it to die over and over.
Allow the memory to strangle it.
Why don't you know, why don't you know
that i'm sitting in the silence?
Why don't you know, why don't you know?
Why don't you know, why don't you know
that i'm struggle to keep you in secret?
Why don't you know, why don't you know?
And i never believe what i feel.
And then I forget you crying.
Then stroke your fingers on it.
I hear your heart's screaming from afar.
And there's nothing to soften this sound.
The getaway is a cairn
and i'ts be turned to us slowly.
Bury under itself
but i can hear the screaming.
But let it to die over and over.
Allow the memory to strangle it.
Why don't you know, why don't you know
that i'm sitting in the silence?
Why don't you know, why don't you know?
Why don't you know, why don't you know
that i'm struggle to keep you in secret?
Why don't you know, why don't you know?
And i never believe what i feel.
And then I forget you crying.
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