Construct - Root Of The Pulse

An island of broken toys
Sitting in a stinking lake
My eyelids glued together
Pleasantly opaque
What lurks in the depths of these hearts?
When their time in the sun is so brief
Everything will be taken away
Everywhere I go I'll have to leave

You don't listen to the root of the pulse

Written by:
Roland Zwaga

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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