| pasta machine broke down | |
| by the weed in the field | |
| i get so nice when i see angels face | |
| i will sip the wine of all the tears you cry | |
| feel for me sympathy | |
| the kind that we all need | |
| crimson handed fiend | |
| of hate strokes the soul of all | |
| saints cannot flee | |
| the strength of the call | |
| we just carry on | |
| as if we know all that is wrong | |
| feel for me sympathy | |
| the kind that we all need | |
| placid perspective straight | |
| losing hope postponing fate | |
| synchronise incarcerate | |
| let them eat i can hate | |
| i can say nothing new | |
| despite the doves that flew | |
| feel for me sympathy | |
| the kind we all need | |
| crimson handed fiend | |
| of hate strokes the soul of all | |
| saints cannot flee | |
| the strength of the call | |
| we just carry on | |
| as if we know all that is wrong | |
| feel for me sympathy | |
| the kind that we all need |
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