文本歌词

The Father, the Son and the Harlot's Ghost - Matt Duke
So under this tree
Far away from church and state is just you and me
There's no need to watch our backs
We'll just simply be
Kiss me honey sweetly with our eyes closed
Words like a knife
Cut my father's throat and he is seething in spite
Threaten my poor mother so she kneels every night
To a prized God divided in the fight
O' sweet thing
Bombs away
I'll say
To you I leave a pox upon this awful place
And for you I bleed
So string up my girl
Deviant and faithless and a bane to your world
Malintent with ignorance it's all so absurd
Worthless and you're worth it all the same the same
Starve in my cell
Man is bound in shackles between heaven and hell
Whether it's worth dying for is too soon to tell
Bloody mouthed and screaming out her name her name
O' sweet thing
Bombs away
And I'll say
To you I leave a pox upon this awful place
But for you I'll bleed
But every drop would touch and waste in
O' sweet thing
Bombs away
And I'll say
To you I leave a pox upon this awful place
And for you I bleed
There was nothing left
When you bred contempt in a sh*t town
Turning your rats into killers
Killers
Oh holy father I bit my tongue
But your good word's turning
Your saints into sinners
So far gone oh
Under this tree
We grew roots and branches kept a hold of our leaves
They will turn through seasons
And they'll fall to the feet
Of the children that came after us
And the spring
And the spring
And the spring
Oh no oh sweet them
Bombs away
And I'll say
To you I leave a pox upon this awful place
And for you I bleed
Oh every drop was such a waste and
O' sweet thing
Bombs away
And I'll say
To you I leave a pox upon this awful place
And for you I bleed
So under this tree
Far away from church and state is just you and me
There's no need to watch our backs
We'll just simply be
Kiss me honey sweetly with our eyes closed