Oliver - Twaddles of a Flue Faker | Текст песни

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• Oliver
• Twaddles of a Flue Faker

I am a portrait which leaves you sighing sadly.
Oh, Laissez Faire. What have you done?
I want to run away.

The Nobblers nailed my feet on the floor.
It starts to rust and attack my blood.
I start to feel myself smile,
Slowly losing myself.
But it did not do the trick.
Oh, Woe is me.
Oh, Can't they see that?

I am a portrait which leaves you sighing sadly.
Oh, Laissez Faire. What have you done?
I want to run away.
For I am that portrait that leaves you sighing sadly.
Oh, Laissez Faire. What have you done?
I want to run away.

It will be a wrack up. I'll make sure.
When they stick me up the chimney.
And now the air escapes me,
Slowly losing myself.
But my master dragged me back down.
Oh, Woe is me.
Oh, Can't they see that?

I am a portrait which leaves you sighing sadly.
Oh, Laissez Faire. What have you done?
I want to run away.
For I am that portrait that leaves you sighing sadly.
Oh, Laissez Faire. What have you done?
I want to run away.

I'll be paper, Thin and pale.
A "Scurf" Sold my life away.
I am patiently sedated.
And now my only exit is....
Is the cold...
Is the cold poetic... Scythe.

For I am a portrait that leaves you sighing sadly.
Oh, Laissez Faire. What have you done?
I want to run away.
For we are a portrait that leaves you sighing sadly.
Oh, Laissez Faire. What have you done?
We want to run away.

A thud sounding softly.
I secretly disintegrate.
Uneasy lamps draw back and forth.
I've waited
For so long...

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