Testo Finest Hour

The scent of night on your fingertips Touch of velvet on your rose petal lips Scream of lives my senses afray The music spoke what our words could not say Don't break, in the finest hour Don't break, in the finest hour A Darklit drive on the plains of awry Smooth and fruit from a sane god's eye Secret longing passion, passing as we bathe In the rule of silent wanderlust haze Don't break, in the finest hour Don't break, in the finest hour Den of midnight, blood on the wire We watch as sadness, fuels the moral pyre The sea of gloom, wades out of the room Dining on hope, we both licked the spoon Don't break, in the finest hour Don't break, in the finest hour