him For he has done his duty You have done your duty Count Jefferey For he destroys For he gains For he takes For he hates And for he is the hated And
And in the sunlight I feel the room grow Windows, white curtained and smooth walls But the night leaves her on the floors Of a mansion hall And the feet
fring and narrow eyes Threadbare, summer patterned, dirty cotton flowered dress Scratched ankles and nail bitten hands Wanted to touch her cool brown hair But she was gone... And
ink shadows As sharp as the thickest thorn and the ice She moves painless, slow and flowing Across the wild and trembling path And the headless clay woman
room has filled with flowing sheets of silk There's maps in her wrists and arms And the morphine surges terror bread and bliss In the tent of powder and
come back... Simon Huw Jones : vocals Justin Jones : guitars Steven Burrows : bass Nick Havas : drums produced by Lol Tolhurst & AATT -------------------------------------------------------------- If you find some major mistakes, or simply wanna chat with a Trees
s yell Silence from the slaughterhouse And the midnight bell Shudders down Shambles alley Slamming shutters And the market litter flies Newspaper acrobats, straw and
Winter words blow the trees Creatures trapped have to fall Hear their howls claw the sky Whispers follow Shantell Shantell sleeps, tables creak Mirrors
Material folds From rough, modest clothes Slabs of cold sacred stone The peasant girl kneels In strips of feeble water light Slim fingers clasped Warm
The boy walked round the jagged rocks caught between ideals and desires He sinks into oblivion And there was silence, as he sat so still Averted face
Each explosion bounces From horizon to horizon From horizon... to horizon And for a while, the slow pulse boy Stood by the window And let the fire
the wild plums Old man's beard And follows the pot-holed tracks That lead to Shaletown The ox-man's soul forever turns around And ploughs the stubble
But the clock ticks so loud Like the cracking of whips Till the sun slowly heaves From the blood hungry land To its heaven of blue Run, through the dust and
music My face four days old You look newborn There's fear in your frown, like mine No distance away Noticing your hand Half round my head And on my face
so low I cannot stand And the blunted knife presses into me Melting in the airless heat The walls close into me Nudging me this way and that From one
beside you The great door it swings The house of the heart Remote and scarlet Say the clouds Vivid visions shatter down the spiral stairs Promises and perfection Solitude and
There is a place where she would always be Where the blossom snows between the cankered trees Holding his sour breath He knows she's there Watching the
talk And then my fear behind venetian blinds The tease the tear The tease the tear Every face the words too deep to speak And then my fear behind venetian