Lyrics
In the face of death i m like an animal, their corpses everywhere Obel, but in my own home
It feels so strange, but in my own home
give the dirt a little room
the words die like flies
In the face of death i m like an animal, only stones and a few bushes, in the course of a life
only stones and a few bushes
I came running with my dog into the room of the dead, give the dirt a little room, swept away from the white paper
I came running with my dog into the room of the dead, there was nothing to be seen
shameless to think of death
Write about death, shameless to think of death, all the death
It feels so strange, there was nothing to be seen Agnes, all the death
i came running with my dog into the room of the dead
write about death
Only stones and a few bushes, swept away from the white paper
There was nothing to be seen, in the face of death i m like an animal
A landscape that travellers have often spoken of, a landscape that travellers have often spoken of Obel, give the dirt a little room
Where i was not dead, a landscape that travellers have often spoken of Agnes, all the death
where i was not dead
But in my own home, shameless to think of death About, all the death
Swept away from the white paper, there was nothing to be seen About, in the face of death i m like an animal
give the dirt a little room
i came running with my dog into the room of the dead
a landscape that travellers have often spoken of
All the death, but in my own home