The Past Alive

Addicted

The Past Alive


A cold chill on his spine
While he´s sipping the wine
He swallows the potion
And waits for the notion
Without it he feels dead
He drinks and regrets it
Flying high feels so good
Wants to take it and shoot

Swallow the death
Fixing the hand
Dying by breath
Bury yourself in the sand

She´s taking a deep breath
A step nearer to death
She sticks in the needle
It solves any riddle
Her soul keeps on burning
All day she is yearning
The snow white freedom
Is her last kingdom

Swallow the...

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