The Fugitive Lyrics
The trees are grey here
The soil is damp and cold
His senses are filled with drought
After his flee from the temple
Rites made him shiver from fear
Now waiting for someone
To proclaim salvation
His price has been paid
The trees are grey here
The soil is damp and cold
His senses are filled with drought
After his flee from the temple
Rites made him shiver from fear
Now waiting for someone
To proclaim salvation
His price has been paid