|
pasta machine broke down |
|
by the weed in the field |
|
i get so nice when i see angels face |
|
i will sip the wine of all the tears you cry |
|
feel for me sympathy |
|
the kind that we all need |
|
crimson handed fiend |
|
of hate strokes the soul of all |
|
saints cannot flee |
|
the strength of the call |
|
we just carry on |
|
as if we know all that is wrong |
|
feel for me sympathy |
|
the kind that we all need |
|
placid perspective straight |
|
losing hope postponing fate |
|
synchronise incarcerate |
|
let them eat i can hate |
|
i can say nothing new |
|
despite the doves that flew |
|
feel for me sympathy |
|
the kind we all need |
|
crimson handed fiend |
|
of hate strokes the soul of all |
|
saints cannot flee |
|
the strength of the call |
|
we just carry on |
|
as if we know all that is wrong |
|
feel for me sympathy |
|
the kind that we all need |
