| Two years spent before the mast and no one knows the secrets that we’re hiding.
|
| If word got loose we’d face the lash, thirteen loops they’d hold us fast in
|
| silence
|
| Things are not always as they seem to be. |
| outside us.
|
| Devil got poor Persephone but they can’t take, they can’t take you from me.
|
| Mr Jones done made a mistake its all business, worst thing than a watery grave
|
| a poor victus? |
| A founda bonda barrel of grain in the hold listless?
|
| A hollow half out of dismay, afraid princess? |
| I guess I’ve gone soft in my age,
|
| they call it instict. |
| The rebels get the devil to pay the cat kissing?
|
| Gonna starta noah oughta send it to the brig, but strongest not to give and
|
| still watery calm winds and all things arent what they seem to be and small
|
| wall seperating earth from eden, one rib did give eve a meaning and one snip
|
| might could keep a secret. |
| With a short hair there and a change of clothe.
|
| Fit right in and work soak n oakem? |
| Four fortnight she’l know with opium.
|
| They might slip by but with furinbosen.
|
| Two years spent before the mast and no one knows the secrets that we’re hiding.
|
| If word got loose we’d face the lash, thirteen loops they’d hold us fast in
|
| silence
|
| Things are not always as they seem to be. |
| outside us.
|
| Devil got poor Persephone but they can’t take, they can’t take you from me.
|
| Lit by the sheers? |
| Twist of her hair. |
| to the air. |
| Handsomely. |
| until they.
|
| floated down among the cloud reflected on the. |
| glassy sea. |
| and when its
|
| disapeared stripped almost bare. |
| bathed in the. |
| transfixed state.
|
| and all things are what they seem to be?. |
| she floated next to me.
|
| just ---- away?.
|
| There is no knots so steadfast it wont go broke in the middle of monsoons you
|
| both dont show waiting watching the wet lips it blows so through blinded mind
|
| of the red sky inoxide. |
| Clouds can be just as designated response blooms
|
| coupled up with stem n its stolen? |
| Once you poke a bridge against the bulkhead
|
| a world pitch pulled through your shirt with soft hands and a soak stone?
|
| Mr Jones is a poor soul who walked into a tempest and less time to pull fools
|
| hit them with whipping and head sale??? |
| but who’s the best man can end when
|
| its almost through. |
| so we paid our key. |
| for the sin of a wreckless dream.
|
| in the scene where the secrets sleep between me, her, the devil and the deep
|
| blue sea.
|
| Two years spent before the mast and no one knows the secrets that we’re hiding.
|
| If word got loose we’d face the lash, thirteen loops they’d hold us fast in
|
| silence
|
| Things are not always as they seem to be. |
| outside us.
|
| Devil got poor Persephone but they can’t take, they can’t take you from me.
|
| : This was my best attempt at writing this song. |
| its incredibly hard and Im not
|
| very good. |
| any help is greatly apreciated!:
|
| : It’s thirteen loops would hold us fast in silence, it’s talking about a
|
| hangman’s noose which is usually tied off with thirteen loops. |
| They’re silent
|
| because they got hanged. |
| Good luck on the rest of the song, it’s too fast to
|
| get most of it right.: |