| No horizon is obscured by the clouds
|
| Settlements make nary a sound
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| And there were black birds singing and fish floating on the sea
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| While the bells of the buoys all rang in harmony
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| Bury your treasure, burn your crops
|
| Black water rising and it ain’t gonna stop
|
| The governor he been long gone, anchor dropped on his front lawn
|
| Build a keep and dig a moat, the return of the Swollen Goat
|
| Can you hear the fife and drums, barnacles barking at the sun
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| Ain’t no chance, so don’t you try, now everybody got to die
|
| Bury your treasure, burn your crops
|
| Black water rising and it ain’t gonna stop
|
| Black water rising and it ain’t gonna stop
|
| «We do not desire tributes
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| We desire information
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| We seek the worm drink who has lately betrayed his nation»
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| Albatross on your neck and a hooker on the shore
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| Dog-men to the deck, there’s a hooker on the
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| In the wake of the swollen goat
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| Bury your treasure, burn your crops
|
| Black water rising and it ain’t gonna stop
|
| Bury your treasure, burn your crops
|
| Black water rising and it ain’t gonna stop |