Liza

Just one step until the closedown Sealing on my fool's routes Concealing my indignation We sat during the verge of drying Just worrying about retirements Good luck with your avocations Waiting for the lone worms to come Rising through the ceiling's walls We're just mistaken For every infatuation It leads to the fact now I see love is pure and The need is weak As I can't take these Happy things for grant Now that I'd fit in We could talk - through the cracks Now the vault is sealed Hit against it