Milo Fairweather - Fire in the Brush | Текст песни

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• Milo Fairweather
• Fire in the Brush

Eternity never seemed so discrete
Always weeping in the leaves
Ever present in the light
And the voices in the breeze
They were meant for me
Like a gift of disease on the mend

You're too tired, you once said
To hold the torch of my regret
Said you're trying to forget
So your story came to us
Like a fire in the brush
Like desire plagued with rust

So I lived my life of lust
Of conspired song and dance
All designed to plague the beast
Of my guilted consequence

So rejoice in the blood
Of my secret army now
Of my wasted martyrdom
While I sulk

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