Waste Songtext
von Whispering Sons

Fragile figure
Don′t speak
Texture of your words
Tortures me
Deep blue desert
Desperate idea
The pleasure of her touch
Tortures me

Surging blood
Boiling streets
The pressure of my thoughts
Tortures me


And I can't see
I can′t see
I won't accept
Except my own ideas
It's a perversity
That′s slowly
Spiraling down in me
And I can′t see
I can't see
I won′t accept
Except my own ideas
It's a perversity
That′s slowly
Spiraling down in me

Fragile figure
I want to make you scream
The texture of your cries
Pleasures me

And I can't see
I can′t see
I won't accept
Except my own ideas
It's a perversity
That′s slowly
Spiraling down in me
It′s a perversity
It's a perversity
It′s a perversity
That's slowly
It′s a perversity
It's a perversity
That′s slowly
Spiraling down in me


And I don't know if I care
And I don't know if I care
And I don′t know if I, don′t know if I care
I don't know if I care
I don′t know if I care
I don't know if I care
I don′t know if I care
I don't know if I care
I don′t know if I care
I don't know if I care
I don't