Withering Away کے بول

Withering Away I'm going astray Beyond the maze Of fibres of doubth When the eyes burn low In marsh of sadness and vanity When the eyes burn low You poor, dying Pursued by the past I don't feel any future Unbelleving in the present I feel more nothing Thorned by remembrances Unable to feel, to do When the eyes burn low I'm drawning in the marsh When the eyes burn low You poor, dying To cut the veins And then - fly away Suicide and curse I don't believe in the the Savior Tears of helplessnes You poor, dying I feel a change When the eyes burn low.