Texty: Soilwork. Stabbing The Drama. If Possible.

If possible just turn the page,
When all you see remains the same.
I wish I could blame it on a face without a name.
In the center of the face I hate,
There's no escape that's what they say.
Without a name...
I've vanished since the anger came.

Bitterness, sometimes the truth I swear,
And I won't dread, my time.

I won't leave today,
As long as I can take the words you stake.
No matter how the hell I make,
The desperation go away,
Without a name...

Bitterness, sometimes the truth I swear,
And I won't dread, my time.
Meaningless, and unsincere,
Hold back those tears, rewind.

Come to the point, with an illusion,
It's there but it's not a revolution.
You'll bear what is not your responsibility,
All that is left of what, you used to be.