Warcloud aka Holocaust - Old Toy Room / A Pie In The Window | Текст песни

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• Warcloud aka Holocaust
• Old Toy Room / A Pie In The Window

[Intro: Warcloud]
Lucky charms...
When it rains the flowers drip candy
To attack and spit ground...

[Chorus 2X: Warcloud]
Hot apple pie, a scoop of vanilla ice cream
Shavings of white and dark chocolate melted over
Crushed up almonds and peanuts, taste
Niagara grapes, the highest in mental states

[Warcloud]
A mosquito in the book store, dastardly tales of torment
Street corner minds and bad medicine vendors
Try to overthrow you, take the celestial railroad
Vitamins and intense oil, moist in poetry
Deep depths of gun, that's a falling of sparrows
Music from the sun, a simple art of war
Trouble is my business, vital summer observer
Evil is the victim, merchant prince of burglars
Who struck each down, snatchin' ya fake veils
Got parrots wit pterodactyl wings and snake tails
They whistle when I feed them, demons fingers and toes
Fair well my lovely, blood-curdling scenery
Chateau, Braille, Capon, an allure
Alcazar, on the balcony, dunkin' donuts in Java
Last my horizon, never sound retreat
The lost regiment, rise of the walking dead
Battle flag tattered in stain, call us windigos
Sasquatch, Yeti, battalion with one head
All devils fled, of man, they were a replica
Indians and cowboys, cops and robbers, America
Long good-bye, I'm headed towards Arabia
Persian in states, and pyramids made of ice
Milk not, gather no sand, mighty architect
Creator of all, and rest within the universe
Soon to burst, acid, rocks, flesh and silver
Never speak in questions, the scriptures of a building

[Warcloud]
Astronaut candy, space caramel, jelly beans
Gyms from around the world, sparkle Knights
Blue socks, fancy red shoes, shiny bottle caps
Toy chest, green and white blocks, triangle buttons
Baseball gloves, a book of picture riddles
I swing on moonshine, and a big city with fiddle
Little do they know, it'll be sunset for those
Telephone poles, dirty pistols and foes
Gun 'em down, that rough magic, sugar time
Briefcase man, sand castles and bowling pins
Barrels full of cherries, grapes and rusty nails
Steel corn chips, Spanish peanuts and dusty rail
Headin' down stone steps towards the old attic
Architect static, Pacific to the Atlantic
Arctic, Indian Ocean, black sand
Toe prints, gray sea shells, French vanilla
Seven horses, seven arrows, seven scalps
Over night delivery, sailin' the seven seas
Seven corks in champagne bottles, sit in the breeze
A bust off of which, smoke stacks and trees
Money comes from paper, smoke comes from burnin' it
Smoke stacks are made from metal found in the ground
Same as the buzz-saw, paper comes from wood
Any answer to the question's, no good, that is the hood
No friendly neighbor, set plants in animals
Cain before Abel is cannibal, understandable

[Outro: Warcloud]
Jill got her feet cut off while she slept
Eighty eight black birds on a telephone wire
One peacock at the top
That was the house that Jack built

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