Riser | Dierks Bentley
Many time has passed, and I can still hear the voices that domains my thoughts, lashing my soul and drives my mind against me; Always hopeless, on a despair of the vanities. But in that instant, the thunder pierced the darkness to renew my soul and spirit with flames of hope. As the day’s pass, the same things still thorn to my heart; spine the walls of my heart, as rotten roses that I didn’t give; forgotten and lost, as everything else that fills my soul with blissful. The wrecked heartbeats are still in the same place… but I can’t feel them anyway, I can’t feel my blood tuned into sharpened ice that tears the flesh on every beat; *White Buffalo, My Mother The time is running, and I’m still laying down on the floor; like a spectacular of the suffer and weakness; like a trophy of mediocrity. I can still hear, all that laughs, all that cries and all kind of sucked voices and sounds ornamented with the agony of the pain: that crushes my mind every single da