Church, The
Quick Smoke At Spot's
Washed into a sentimental gloom
Loneliness about the
Battle-clad byzantium commands
And these dark cards look nothing like my hand
Lightning strikes a second time
Songbird knows just when to die
Emperor cries immortal from the grime
Sun is in the hole in the sky
Interest builds up with perfumed pride
There's an enemy cruising on the plain tonight
Years it's lost and then it's
Don't know how i'm so far off from my bed
Memories of serpents in the drain
Melting like ice in the rain
As my self grows closer to the grave