Instrumenty
Ensembles
Opera
Kompozytorzy
Wykonawcy

Teksty: My American Heart. Miles Behind Us.

How does it feel to be dragged under this pickup
truck where your heart IS BLANK.
I'd love to say that I hate you,
and I can't forget the feeling in my head when

These miles behind us are GROWING father,
and I seem to forget I'm still breathing.
Your SENSES SCREAMED into my head,
and I knEw this has to end
Without you, without you.

How does it feel to be dead?
Alone and cold without the one I SAID I'D DIE WITH
I'd love to say that I hate you.
For the pain you passed away,
for the anger CAUSED, I LAY myself to sleep.

These miles behind us are GROWING farther,
and I seem to forget I'm still breathing.
Your SENSES SCREAMED into my head,
and I knEw this has to end
Without you, without you.

I find it in you, it's tearing up my skin,
and finding its way to my heart.
(KILL ME) You should (NEVER) rot like this