Tytuł: Cold brains
- Wykonawca: Beck
- Wy¶wietleń: 232
Cold brains,
unmoved,
untouched,
unglued,
alone at last.
No thoughts,
no mind,
to rot
behind
a trail of disasters.
A final the curse,
abandoned hearse,
we ride disowned,
corroded to the bone.
The fields
of green
are bent,
obscene,
I lay upon the gravel.
A worm of hope,
a hangman's rope
pulls me one way or the other.
A final curse,
abandoned hearse,
we write this song,
corroded to the bone.
A bird
of song
is heard
no longer
in the evacuated heavens.
And the drain
is drawn,
and drained
and gone,
and on and on, it doesn't matter.
A final curse,
abandoned hearse,
we rock the salt,
corroded to the bone.
