Abyss Lyrics
| Song | Abyss |
| Artist | Memento |
| Album | Beginnings |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Never will you find the reasons | |
| Sand is just a broken stone | |
| Love it changes with the seasons | |
| In the dark | |
| I read the lines upon your hand | |
| Junkies, intellects and preachers | |
| All addicted to your clans | |
| Caged by ribs sits the believer | |
| With less friends than fingers on one hand | |
| When silence speaks free | |
| When no one’s home | |
| When cold and lucid | |
| When bruised and torn | |
| Look into your abyss | |
| Nothing tastes like this | |
| Look into.... | |
| Is what you see here what you wanted? | |
| No soft lens, no violins like the gray eyes of a dead man | |
| The mirror always stares | |
| I’ve got a little riddle in my head | |
| What’s the little riddle in your head? | |
| Look into your abyss |
| Never will you find the reasons | |
| Sand is just a broken stone | |
| Love it changes with the seasons | |
| In the dark | |
| I read the lines upon your hand | |
| Junkies, intellects and preachers | |
| All addicted to your clans | |
| Caged by ribs sits the believer | |
| With less friends than fingers on one hand | |
| When silence speaks free | |
| When no one' s home | |
| When cold and lucid | |
| When bruised and torn | |
| Look into your abyss | |
| Nothing tastes like this | |
| Look into.... | |
| Is what you see here what you wanted? | |
| No soft lens, no violins like the gray eyes of a dead man | |
| The mirror always stares | |
| I' ve got a little riddle in my head | |
| What' s the little riddle in your head? | |
| Look into your abyss |
| Never will you find the reasons | |
| Sand is just a broken stone | |
| Love it changes with the seasons | |
| In the dark | |
| I read the lines upon your hand | |
| Junkies, intellects and preachers | |
| All addicted to your clans | |
| Caged by ribs sits the believer | |
| With less friends than fingers on one hand | |
| When silence speaks free | |
| When no one' s home | |
| When cold and lucid | |
| When bruised and torn | |
| Look into your abyss | |
| Nothing tastes like this | |
| Look into.... | |
| Is what you see here what you wanted? | |
| No soft lens, no violins like the gray eyes of a dead man | |
| The mirror always stares | |
| I' ve got a little riddle in my head | |
| What' s the little riddle in your head? | |
| Look into your abyss |
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