LIVE GALLERY: Animals as Leaders & Night Verses at the Roundhouse, London
Who knows what fate will produce?
Who knows what fate will produce?
Heavy is the stone of sorrow.
The doubts are swarming in my head.
Steel and bones collide as flesh divides.
Did the weight and all the pressure weed you out?
To break these chains, I’ll keep swinging.
We merge and melt as one, our skin everlong.
Would you follow me into the black?