كلمات Lord Help My Poor Soul

Lord help my poor soul I'm down like Edgar Poe Lord help my poor soul I'm bound for Damascus Rid those parasites, guttersnipe barbarous begrudgers click With a stick, now they're feeling seasick Wrestle from the bow that bends, the bow that breaks The Judas tree These garments are foreign rags, all gloomy Not my own you see, when the curb came to me There was no straw In the upholstery Lord help my poor soul I'm down like Edgar Poe Lord help my poor soul I'm bound for Damascus Meltdown some, white label's the best, no contest Boot polish, Heads are turned up the vest You know our life feels To address a cheap holiday We go rabble-rousing, carousing, drowsing, barbiturate Moths at bay congregate, a little blue tit Known to gather in Grief's archway Lord help my poor soul I'm down like Edgar Poe Lord help my poor soul I'm bound for Damascus Hold on, you don't have to suffer Hold on, you don't feel any pain Lord help my poor soul I'm down like Edgar Poe Lord help my poor soul I'm bound for Damascus