Текст, перевод и аккорды “Hyperviolet”
- Traced in wet sand her name in perfect cursive. A love letter to the crescent moon. By tomorrow it will be gone I told her. There is no tomorrow she said. I can feel her in a bikini of coiled snakes dancing to the hiss of the wind. Postcards from a paradise in flames. She used to be so right. So right about everything.
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