| Steeped inside the dormant pipe of fishermen
|
| It was always near
|
| Kept out of the light, the bulbs were listening
|
| In a forlorn fear
|
| I won’t explain this, I will regret this
|
| It’s just a matter of taste
|
| You will expect this on every next list
|
| This must have been the place
|
| The heads of home affairs and psalms all disagree
|
| On the better way
|
| To get rid of those plaguing strokes of wizardry
|
| And relieve the state
|
| No good intention well worth the mention
|
| Why don’t we call it quits
|
| Let it invade us, worst comes to the worst
|
| We’ll learn some useful tricks
|
| Let it invade us, put our beds on fire
|
| Let it invade us, put our beds on fire
|
| Let it invade us, put our beds on fire
|
| Let it invade us, put our beds on fire
|
| Steeped inside the dormant pipe of fishermen
|
| It was always near
|
| Kept out of the light, the bulbs were listening
|
| In a forlorn fear |