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Plainsong (The Cure)
05:25
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Incantations penetrate the furthest reaches of the Gods.
Not the care of the skies, or revolving stars,
Can avail as an excuse to the deities she calls,
Day delays to rise on earth, the Sun a mere catspaw.
What went we into this wilderness to find?
Leaving our country, our kindred, our farther's houses, and for what?
At the crux of a baleful knoll,
Wicked council, come as one.
To live deliciously.
To relish in the taste of butter.
To be clothed in a fine dress.
To fly from this serpent's nest.
My corrupt nature is empty of grace,
Bent unto sin, and that continually.
What went we into this wilderness to find?
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Underdark Nottingham, UK
Press: sammy@churchroadrecords.com
Enquiries: underdarkukbm@gmail.com
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