The Builders And The Butchers - Short Way Home | Текст песни

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• The Builders And The Butchers
• Short Way Home

It took a long time ago on my grave
As the judge comes down with the gavel
And the rain did look like the blood on the ground
He shook the grass and the leaves and the gravel

You try, you try, you try
You try to find the short way home
Oh the roots, bloody knees, and the bent-over trees
They try to find the way back home

Familiar signs, the resolight
Begs to be here one by one
And your fate's been sealed by the turning of the wheel
And the setting of the evening sun

So you crawl on by the light of the moon
Across the leaves and over the hours
And you pray that you make it to the breaking of the day
You try to find the way back home

And you try, you try
You try to find the short way home
Oh the roots, bloody knees, and the bent over trees
You're tryin' to find your way back home

Mother why'd you have to go and clip my golden wings?
I'm gonna fly off this building all the same.
You put me down in the darkest well, and still that water stings
I'm gonna fly off this building all the same. [x2]

Mother why'd you have to go and clip my dirty wings?
I'm gonna fly off this building all the same.
You put me down in the deepest well, and still that water stings
I'm gonna fly off this building all the same.

It took a long time ago on my grave
As the judge comes down with the gavel
And the rain did look like the blood on the ground
It shook the grass and the leaves and the gravel

And you try, you try,
You try to find the short way home.
Oh the roots, bloody knees, and the bent-over trees.
You try to find the way back home.
You try to find the way back home.
You'd die to find the short way home.

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