Tones of history ring here like a gong but the pitch is bent and queer
Used to be time was upon us, carried our hearts on our sleeves
The details will haunt us in strange ways
That I might live and mean it like the lion means to kill
Ripened too quickly into rot and fallen on this stinking spot
Jesus will shine on you brightly, into the hollow lands
For the pleasure games we play so easily
Once we've all drunk all our fill of fire
And casts her cobalt gaze across the years
In the lion all desire and prayer is one
Who will resurrect us? Jive, ass and teeth
That never really make a soul
Now the sky, a fiend of fire, the season's tears to ancient wine
Mrs. Amelia Underwood, carry my heart in your hand
Like snow and smoke and skeletal leaves
A ghostly blight from godless eyes, the howling flames of our design
Mrs. Amelia Underwood, carry my heart in your hand
A faint sadness hangs about the trees as if our life and times were fruit
Upon a beach of bones the iron orchid stands
Wearing the joy and the sorrow like beautiful fall pained leaves
