by Sebastian Kluth
Par kluseba
Autumn leaves, the summer is dying.
Sun upon your face, the last time I would see you.
What I would trade to remain for a moment.
Ripped away from mortal ties, thrust into eternity.
(''Time Crushes All'' by Idle Hands, taken from the 2018 extended play Don't Waste Your Time)
Thème Magazine © - Hébergé par Eklablog