Текст песни The Year Of The Swine

You carry the loyalty of dogs so you shall be led to the slaughter as swim It all seemed so real in your whispers Adorned with the best of intentions, bleeding softly It's late and my ears can't listen and these is no one to list me to my feet But still i dream of you twisting and contouring beneath a barbage bag veil And this is how it ends, pretty and black as the soul Just for one split instant i want to be the lucky one Not to have the pleasure of tasting the salt of tears when we kiss