| And I drown a little more every day
|
| The wind blows so slowly now
|
| The trees are dry dead
|
| Walls to me they cannot hold back the storm any longer
|
| It will bread around us first
|
| If there’s a god
|
| If there’s a God
|
| When I stand there at the piled bloodcamp
|
| Again I flick open the inner eye
|
| If you too open your eyes you shall see
|
| The entire sky filled with weeping angels
|
| The entire heaven filled with weeping angels
|
| And the centralsun and sum of all
|
| God too weeping
|
| We shall be judged
|
| So anyway so your garden is most fullgreen
|
| And the many birds alight on its budding branches
|
| And anyway the lambs gambol
|
| And the children sing yours perhaps
|
| Or mine God
|
| And anyway
|
| So anyway we fall beneath the waves
|
| And hope to be remembered anyway
|
| Anyway the bluebirds wait over the white cliffs of Dover
|
| So anyway they to fall
|
| The grass dies the moss goes the chalk chips away
|
| Then below that the rocks grain away
|
| This is the sound of the earth dying so nothing new
|
| So anyway you may wait under a tree
|
| Or at the foot of a hill
|
| Anyway |