Paroles de Spectre At The Feast

The practise of harmony Is a delicate thing The tension preceding The bow and the string It's just how you phrase it It's not what you mean The art of precision Will keep your cuts clean Until the day You're faced with a beast That no one can tame Until the day You're caught in a storm Of what you became Then, virtues and creed Scatter like pearls from a chain A chain Blood on the ground Washing away with the rain The rain Away with the rain Peace of mind Is a balancing act Convenience dictates What you add and subtract A transient construct Believe and deny All truth is simple Is that not doubly a lie? Until the day You're faced with a beast That no one can tame Until the day You're caught in a storm Of what you became Virtues and creed Scatter like pearls from a chain A chain Blood on the ground Washing away with the rain The rain Away with the rain The practise of harmony Is a delicate thing The tension preceding The bow and the string It's just how you phrase it It's not what you mean Is that not doubly a lie? Virtues and creed Scatter like pearls from a chain A chain Blood on the ground Washing away with the rain Falling, falling, falling