Cold winds blow through leaves
In the fields where they were hanged,
And innocent blood was shed on trees;
At night, hear the restless souls scream
For blood and vengeance in their dreams.
Writings of love, agony, and introspection
Cold winds blow through leaves
In the fields where they were hanged,
And innocent blood was shed on trees;
At night, hear the restless souls scream
For blood and vengeance in their dreams.
