| Dear lie still along my old web
|
| Cursed by your dust filled head
|
| Dear lie still along my old web
|
| Cursed by your dust filled head
|
| Water spills down o’er
|
| The glass left always full
|
| There’s a dew under the bed where
|
| Sweat and dreams hath tread
|
| Your feet would touch the floor
|
| And drift around like boards
|
| Hang you like a lullabye
|
| Hang you like a lullabye
|
| Hang you like a lullabye
|
| Dear lie still along my old web
|
| Cursed by your dust filled head
|
| Dear lie still along my old web
|
| Cursed by your dust filled head
|
| Little voices left to rot and plot
|
| The clenching of your teeth
|
| Might help you sleep
|
| It will not lift you
|
| Always wished you’d walk
|
| Through and o’er the salt
|
| Hangs you like a lullabye
|
| Hang you like a lullabye
|
| Hang you like a lullabye
|
| Dear lie still along my old web
|
| Cursed by your dust filled head
|
| Dear lie still along my old web
|
| Cursed by your dust filled head
|
| Dear lie still along my old web
|
| Cursed by your dust filled head
|
| Dear lie still along my old web
|
| Cursed by your dust filled head
|
| Dear lie still along my old web
|
| Cursed by your dust filled head
|
| Dear lie still along my old web
|
| Cursed by your dust filled head |