| Lyrics: | Rattled chime, slow ringing echo
Roll around in virus meadow
Suck enchanted nightshade
twine
Hear the bells beneath us chime
Sinking sermon, priest head murmurs
/>
Holy words across the meadows
Kissed the plagues' black rolling hand
Through his
lips the virus sang
And the rooks, they seemed to follow him
Wherever he
goes
Flapping in the flat sky
Shrieking in the spire
Hanging from the lead
sky
Dangling from the sun
The rooks, they seemed to follow him
Wherever he
goes
Nodding thistle, english sun dew
Swansneck woman, child-bed meadow
/>
Aching shoulders sink and grow
As the bells from ditches toll
And the
smeared skin wrapped limbs
Of the night brothers
Struggling.... crawling
/>
Through the empty crack of morning
Of the night brothers...
Of the night
brothers....
/>
________________________________________________________________
If you find some
major mistakes, or simply wanna chat with
a licensed die-hard Trees-head, just mail
me.....
Slow Pulse Ulisse |
