Death کے بول

The sky is just about sand Your silence seems to have crept I know the hour's intense Death, what could be worse If I had something to complain about If I took your place, would it hurt Something to complain about I never thought that I'll let I mostly want what I get It comes at night when it wants You're better off in our bed Death, what could be worse If I had something to complain about If I took your place, would it hurt Something to complain about Prefer the noise to the song The words, they always seemed wrong We're better off within here Death, what could be worse If I had something to complain about If I took your place, would it hurt Something to complain about Death, what could be worse If I had something to complain about If I took your place, would it hurt Something to complain about