The Pope

Old desires, no sense for truth
She forgot everything has a root
One more word till the rollercoaster start
You will find a thousand ways to live without me
Dead rose and my thorns will bleed you now

She brings me storms
Without me, pain is her last resort
Love, rise and fall
Without me, pain is her last resort

Like a sharpen knife on your skin
My last touch brings you an inner feed
If I would ever bring you down
You wouldn't find a God named the Sun

She brings me storms
Without me, pain is her last resort
Love, rise and fall
Without me, pain is her last resort

She brings me storms
Without me, pain is her last resort
Love, rise and fall
Without me, pain is her last resort

When the freedom of speech falls
And the trust is remorse
The cult of the non rises
When the priest becomes dust
And the rose falling down
Pain is her last resort

She brings me storms
Without me, pain is her last resort
Love, rise and fall
Without me, pain is her last resort