Dead End Songtext
von Whispering Sons

Eyes casting forth glances of disdain
Don′t they see I'm a saint?
I should be praised
While I parade past my own remains
I strive for perfection
They should hang on every word I speak
Lick the dirt off my lips and kiss my cheeks
Cheer on the evolution that I seek
I am ripe for perfection
And I gradually cut out all the pieces I don′t like
And I enslaved myself to a maniacal mind
Now I'm a bitter better person
A superficial version
Now I'm a bitter better person A superficial version
And I gradually cut out all the pieces I don′t like
And I enslaved myself to a maniacal mind
Now I′m a bitter better person
A superficial version
Now I'm a bitter better person
A superficial version
And I gradually cut out all the pieces I don′t like
And I enslaved myself to a maniacal mind
Now I'm a bitter better person
A superficial version
Now I′m a bitter better person
A superficial version