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Year Of Our Lord

Year Of Our Lord

Manchild In The Promised Land

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Оригинален текст

See the bloodstained grass as it burns.
Throw forth your hand to me.
Fields of glowing cables against the night sky.
Funny how you speak to me, with your poison tongue.
Killer, as I scratch at the cold stone.
Killer, it crumbles to my knees.
I still kept you alive.
But you buried me when you gave in to denial, so far astray.
Burned by the words left unsaid.
I'm holding on to the scripts you ressurected.
Saved by something you can1t see - it's in the air,

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