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When the babies born |
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Oh, let's turn it to the snow |
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So that ice will surely grow |
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Over weak and brittle bones |
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Oh, let's leave it to the wolves |
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Oh, their teeth turn it to food |
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Oh, its flesh keeps them alive |
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Oh, its death helps life survive |
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Oh, the world can be kind in its own way |
|
|
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Oh well your future's a machine |
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With the mechanics of a dream |
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It is your mind that spins the wheel |
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And your heart that makes you feel |
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All the guilt for all your sins |
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Oh and as that wheel spins |
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Oh well it plays as they believed |
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And for your husband you have grieved |
|
|
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Oh the world |
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Still decieves you as it turns |
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Well in my weakest moments I could see |
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Oh that the heart may be |
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The weakest part of me |
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|
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Oh and the moon controls |
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The movements of the tide |
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Oh but it has no weight on the movements of my mind |
