Itching palms turn into fists
The stronger always blames the weaker
These walls don’t have ears
A broken mirror doesn’t flicker
Itching palms turn into fists
the stronger always blames the weaker
Beloved ones are enemies
A broken soul doesn’t flitter
Grey lives under a surface
Days drowned in stigma
Like a snake that bites its tail
Always with a poisonous kiss
Silence circles compel me to zip my leap
Silence circles compel me to maintain the status quo
Stop being a target (trigger)
(Keep) Put your finger on a trigger
Word is your weapon
Silence is your tomb
In this vicious circle, only pain exists
When you've got in trouble, dissipate the mist
Never turn the other cheek — bend the line
Pull the trigger of your weapon, word is a sign
