Seven And Thirteen Lyrics

the trivial little things left in your wake are beloved terminally
infected limbs it is not the firing squad but the blindfold
that makes us tense the loss of perfection leaves no cause to persist
in searching leaving me longing for the day that finally smothers all hope.

Correct these lyrics

Rate this song (current rating: not rated yet)
Meaning to "Seven And Thirteen" no entries yet
(*) required
(*) required

Characters count : (*) min. 100 characters required