Black heart, despairing mind.
Abominate shape.
Among the field of vibrant flowers
I am the object of grave.
The sun no longer shines.
The spirit abstains.
There's blood upon my hands.
A tearful dead gaze.
Watch it all unfold
End of days.
The flowers die
Clouds form
Black sun
Death's door
3:14
A song about rumination and overthinking and letting your anxiety control you.
Credits
Production, Publishing, Songwriting, EG, Vox— Lord Corvinus
