安装 Steam
登录
|
语言
繁體中文(繁体中文)
日本語(日语)
한국어(韩语)
ไทย(泰语)
български(保加利亚语)
Čeština(捷克语)
Dansk(丹麦语)
Deutsch(德语)
English(英语)
Español-España(西班牙语 - 西班牙)
Español - Latinoamérica(西班牙语 - 拉丁美洲)
Ελληνικά(希腊语)
Français(法语)
Italiano(意大利语)
Bahasa Indonesia(印度尼西亚语)
Magyar(匈牙利语)
Nederlands(荷兰语)
Norsk(挪威语)
Polski(波兰语)
Português(葡萄牙语 - 葡萄牙)
Português-Brasil(葡萄牙语 - 巴西)
Română(罗马尼亚语)
Русский(俄语)
Suomi(芬兰语)
Svenska(瑞典语)
Türkçe(土耳其语)
Tiếng Việt(越南语)
Українська(乌克兰语)
报告翻译问题

West Midlands, United Kingdom (Great Britain)



Here she comes down, as her wings get nailed to the ground
A polaroid of shame
The last angel's pathetic fame
The face of deceit with nails in her feet
She's a preacher deprived from her voice
A punctured lung is creating noise
The cry that she made was the cry of a dying child
The revocation of empathy
The sound from a million dreams and scars
Termination Bliss
Blessed under a lie, Her last little weak "why?"
The bloody end of a dream
Slit the throat and taste the cream
She wears her crown on a head that's bowed deep down
A dying picture of lies
A tortured saint fed to the flies.