the pearls will drop at the end of the line every morning.
just a little bit closer, and with a loose touch I'm here to watch you.
let's share the stare and turn off the radio.
downtown skies
(play on our fears)
are coming
(they knew where the cancer grows)
like white horse
riders are mysterious
the pearls will drop at the end of the line every morning.
just a little bit closer, and with the a loose touch I'm here to watch you.
let's share the stare and turn off the radio.
down town skies
(play on our fears)
are coming
(they knew where the cancer grows)
like white horse
riders are mysterious.
reach out, a porcelain touch disguised with fingertips below us.
downtown skies
are coming
like whit horse
riders are mysterious
(mother of all sleepers, mourn her, dressed with pearls,
drunk with the blood of saints, she is dead and burning.)