گیت کے بول کے نقاط
ENاصل بول
ترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
The room fell still, submerged by time
The chatter drowned in liquid hours
If ever words were obsolete
The vibrant air would speak
There is conduct
Like honour among thieves
There is grace
Within the fearful eyes of those who seek
And we know
We know so well the endgame of our presence
Instinctively we throw ourselves
Into these rites of passage
The paths to where we might belong
Are riddles in a long forgotten tongue
And these sentiments we share
Unspoken violence suspended in the air
This is how our eyes could never meet
Strangers by a monument of hope
In silent hours, you have known my name
But none of us could ever be the same
I could cut you open with a word
Let your blood run down into the soil
If only for a moment to be free
Complete with me
In rites of passage
