Fatalism Songtext
von IRST

Every seed carries the memory of its own death
And every bloom bends toward the grave
I fed the dirt, but it was already dead
Since my hands laid it all to waste
All the flowers will wither away
All the flowers will wither away They′ll wither away
They'll wither away
They′ll wither away
All the flowers will wither away
Salt the earth
There's no reprieve for my fatalistic state of mind