I’m sorry love,
those old bones are calling out.
The dirt singing my name.
All that I have become,
was built on this grave.
We always knew it was a matter of time,
Until it collected it’s deb.
I’m sorry love,
those old bones are calling out.
The dirt singing my name.
All that I have become,
was built on this grave.
We always knew it was a matter of time,
Until it collected it’s deb.