|
My dreams are covered in ants, |
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Wading in the pools of human blood, |
|
Set ablaze as we sat back and laughed. |
|
Why am I hunted by the guilt of my past? |
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Heave. Heave. |
|
Gather the ore with our bare hands, |
|
Heave. Heave. |
|
I'm unfit to be here. |
|
Still blood in the meat, |
|
So far out of reach. |
|
Still blood in the meat, |
|
And the carriage keeps on rolling over me. |
|
So far out of reach. |
|
My heart is covered in ants, |
|
Crawling on the scene of the accident. |
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Locked hands pulled up by broken arms, |
|
We pass out and we never get up. |
|
Heave. Heave. |
|
Gather the ore with our bare hands, |
|
Heave. Heave. |
|
I'm unfit to be here. |
|
Still blood in the meat, |
|
So far out of reach. |
|
Still blood in the meat, |
|
And the carriage keeps on rolling over me. |
|
So far out of reach. |
|
The charred remains of the saints, |
|
Trapped in the glassblower's pipe. |
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Chapel wall covered in communion. |
|
Rise up on the hillside. |
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Raise the devil in the valley. |
|
Heave oxen. |
