Thisgrace Lyrics

Slung, the broken wings. Torment, what's it bring? Slave, the unborn son. Whom we turn from. Climb with me. Forget why we sought the man who came to sake us for us to take his hand indeed. Oh how these, oh how these days. Oh how these days came and I was so blind. To all the rains came and now take all of mind. Did not ask for this and yet it still comes. Like the four winds blow that came from above. Tha paint that it sought and confides, bringing much more wisdom that high. Oh how these days, oh how these days. Oh how these days came and I was so blind to see frains come and take all mine. They sought me ...