Blood on the door, blood on the stairs, blood on the floor, blood in my hair,
turn around and white light guides me twist and fall and kneel beside me
nothing is sure, visions impair, I'm sick to the core, and walking on air
Nothing is real, no one to hold, nothing to feel except for the cold.
turn around and white light guides me twist and fall and kneel beside me
nothing is sure, visions impair, I'm sick to the core, and walking on air
Nothing is real, no one to hold, nothing to feel except for the cold.