The Remaining Few - Painted Air | Текст песни

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• The Remaining Few
• Painted Air

Here I lie on my deathbed,
recalling things said,
as my world slips away.

A man stands over me,
one final plea,
though I disagree!


[break]

Cars, daytime and light,
running red light.
Other drivers won't yield.

People stand without sound,
tears thouch the ground,
and soon dry away!


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