Static on the airwaves sings All the times, bright old things Now RPGs and sulphur clouds My enemies disperse the ground A countdown for reflections past Our fate is ridden, the die is cast And we, will not go easy.
Vyšlo na albech
Static on the airwaves sings All the times, bright old things Now RPGs and sulphur clouds My enemies disperse the ground A countdown for reflections past Our fate is ridden, the die is cast And we, will not go easy.