Tekster:
Fionn Regan The End Of History

I feel your sorrow chasing tomorrow There is no distance in your absence If you call the monsters they will appear Like I disappear Blackout There is

Frame by frame, It did unfold. Be good or be gone, Be good or be, be gone. I read to you on saturdays, Museum has closed down. Sell all your things, At the end

We came down by the factory Industrial yarns where my father did work When I was a boy I went to far I lost the tread in the darkest of space If I become

I feel your sorrow chasing tomorrow There is no distance in your absence If you call the monsters they will appear Like I disappear Blackout There is

Wait your turn You always go for the jugular Like a juggernaut Spinning off the asphalt We wait around pacing round this table You arrive on

Down here underneath the microscope, it's hard to cope. don't hide your face in your hands, 'cause if your eyes play tricks, it's outta my control.

They're biting at your heels Country lanes lead to fields Who was that fox caught in that trap Laid with hunters map When the could rolls back back