Wow, I'm sick of doubt

Live in the life of certain, south, cruel bindings

The servants have the power

Dog men and they're mean women

Pulling poor blankets over our sailors



I'm sick of dour faces staring at me from the tv tower

I want roses in my garden bower, dig?

Royal babies, rubies must now replace aborted strangers in the mud

These mutants blood meal, the plant that's ploughed



They are waiting to take us into the severed garden

You know how pale, wanton, thrillful comes death

In the strange hour

Unannounced, unplanned for

Like the scary over friendly guest you bought to bed



Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings

Where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws



No more money, no more fancy dress

This other kingdom seems by far the best

Until it's other jaw reveals incest

And lose obedience to a vegetable



I will not go

Prefer a feast of friends to the giant family