Antic Clay - Wainwright | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Antic Clay
• Wainwright

A shell of a man is found sandside
A shell of a man on hell's shore
A skeletal sutler with bleachy wares
Here and there on the scalded floor
And this shell of a man held a mirror
To the mouth of that man
Just for the steam of his death
Or some real evidence of his passing.
Wainwright! Wainwright!
You repaired nothing.
"Which way I fly is hell, myself am hell."
I crave the law with my maw,
But my sentence is for open war.
And I'm condemned to the freedom of a tinker in the desert.
Just barking my wares across a dessicated moor.
Wainwright! Wainwright!
You spend upon an ocean, an ocean of pride.
And each breath adds to the quotient
Of what you accede to abide.
You'll drag your dray through a wasteland
Hawking your trinkets of nothing.
Wainwright was also a sawbones
But all you believers are bluffing. You're bluffing.
Wainwright! Wainwright! Wainwright! Wainwright!

3/11/2014

Antic Clay еще тексты