The Tremor

Nightrage

Nothing hurts like the truth, a piece of perfidy, a deceitful behaviour,

women's lures, deserted like an empty corpse, an uneasy conscience.



Stigmatised in hell, he's puffed up with conceit,

there will come a day of retribution, they're just lost dreams,

cursed to crawl between hypocrites and vain promises,

my heart bleeds.



[CHORUS:]

The tremor of leaves in the breeze.



You can't weigh up, where does this road lead,

at whose door should the blame lie?

The lie lay heavy on his conscience.



[CHORUS]