Eleven 歌词

Quit making faces at the one I love These errant tightropes that you're thinking of Can't be undone the instant that they're set Above this scorched and torrid hallowed ground or So they say (in the city) So they say (in the sea) Set your watch (round the corner) While they bleed I heard a rumour that you lost your job Was it just hearsay or of factual ground? This tightrope's set up, there's no going back To sepiata and the plastic surgeons with (?) Pineapple cones bleaching your bones Pineapple cones bleaching your bones Pineapple cones... They came on the crest of a wave The cusp of equinox today This pillar of sleep orbited By thousands of delicate thoughts These satellites fleeced at the door Comprised of the reason of years As life flashes fitfully down This spirit so fitfully drowns A signal is sent from the core To bring all the satellites home Home, home... A quart of the ... still remains (?) Tsunami that rip at the skin (?) Anonymous wrenches of blame A great tidal wave Over the house on the hill The snakes are all burdened with lead Plumbum dementia for them Just don't forget