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Strike the slate and measure out the damage done |
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Tie the needle right through the bone |
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I am lost to mothers only son |
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And I have sung my final song |
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in this house of failing grace |
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And I've sang for the patient mother |
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Naive and child like lovers |
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Sang to get out of this place. |
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And I'm drawn to the sound of silence |
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Cracked whip and peal of sirens |
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Drawn to this cold empty space. |
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Filling with white noise. |
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And I'll be your prophet while |
|
you'll be counting ships, |
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Followed by hurricanes blown straight from |
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Poseidon's lips, |
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You know my dreams |
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they have fed a fire for so long, |
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This is my final song sung by.... sung by sirens. |
|
(chorus) |
