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Sometimes those simple things won't turn the trick no more |
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and our self-important dreams they all lie shattered on the floor |
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even the proletariat receives his royalty |
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and as the battle rages on and on I wish it wasn't me |
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And it seems so cruel (bis) |
|
the last one breaking up (bis) |
|
until the winter finds it's worth (bis) |
|
as we glide upon the earth |
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Now the trees are swept aside by wind and sheets of rain |
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and the fertile fields once glided have now withered and refrained |
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sah who longs for comfort feels instead a savage thrust |
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and the ashen sky grows ever darker as dawn gives way to dust |
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And it seem so cruel (bis) |
|
the last one breaking up (bis) |
|
until the winter finds it's worth (bis) |
|
as we set our dogs upon the earth |
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feast on the dead until no life remain |
|
forward towards a pointless end we squander never gain |
