Artist: Wilted
blurred visions of things that never were
frozen pine my bed
echoes in my mind
silent sighs of the bereft
castles formed from the sands of time
into shadows my soul will descend
distance
way too late
seven to nine
credits
bizarre tendency
spacewater
hydrogen
make it my own
filling me in
from red
als die nacht den tag verchlang
if wishes were horses beggars
springtime
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