Songtext von Dormant

Steeped inside the dormant pipe of fishermen It was always near Kept out of the light, the bulbs were listening In a forlorn fear I won't explain this, I will regret this It's just a matter of taste You will expect this on every next list This must have been the place The heads of home affairs and psalms all disagree On the better way To get rid of those plaguing strokes of wizardry And relieve the state No good intention well worth the mention Why don't we call it quits Let it invade us, worst comes to the worst We'll learn some useful tricks Let it invade us, put our beds on fire Let it invade us, put our beds on fire Let it invade us, put our beds on fire Let it invade us, put our beds on fire Steeped inside the dormant pipe of fishermen It was always near Kept out of the light, the bulbs were listening In a forlorn fear