Привет, Гость.
  Сегодня Пятница, 2026-04-24, 10:01 AM

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I'm not sick, I'm just a boy
Sifting through the newfound lie
And I'll be crawling through these ashes and dissecting
All these flies
Since the sun has died and it is still somewhat July

Is this all the world has to offer?

And I don't know how much you thought I'd be
It turns to ashes on me

One more piece inside these lines
Deeper harms my disguise
And everyone is different so everyone is sly
And everything's still horrible since everyone still dies

Is this all the world has to offer?

And I don't know how much you thought I'd be
It turns to ashes on me

No one is safe

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