Paroles de Whitebled

Black fly, white tile, bleed oil, red tile I've been confused, and do not grieve to admit it Those who are so true convinced are standing on a leaking ship Concealed, by some hidebound definition, The sand we're standing on will show us, That it’s not some rock that owns us Now, endless summer dries you up, underneath the browning sky You live where birds don’t chose to fly But I've seen, the rat among the dreams The fly in every ointment and the crude oil in the cream Do not write lyrics for this song I'd rather swing a sword of dust than blow the golden horn "Where did we go wrong?" A cloud may wear a lining but still it holds a storm And I know that nothing good is going to happen but I don't know when. The brown dove takes it's flight From the hotel parking lot The others get bled white, And tagged when they are caught Behind the color chrome house The calf is whining low Like a drunk who makes his crying Among the church’s silent rows Crossmaker wordtaker say Why not that heavy other way Out from the eye in a ray Why not that heavy other way Whitebled Sensitive subject No-one’s trying Any other way Whitebled Men cost money Mausoleum Heavier the tomb When I spit out the medicine, of the cross and weary way And the fog lifts up and leaves us, we notice that it’s day And every worn-in delusion is naked and exposed The terrified myth is crownless, groundless, only feeling cold