The Black Angels
The Black Angels
The Black Angels
The Black Angels
The Black Angels
The Black Angels
The Black Angels
The Black Angels
The Black Angels
The Black Angels
The Black Angels
The Black Angels
So you’re lying in the snow
You lie right through you’re clothes
You never kiss and tell
That’s never ever
The beast is calling you
Bland, a mix of old incense
A fleet stripped of weapons
A stuttering boy is saved
On Easter Sunday
It’s now or never
Well, I know we’ll meet again
I’d love to hear your voice
We don’t fill our songs with noise
That’s never ever
Scar, you know that’s what you are
You say the Beatles stopped the war
They might have helped to find a cure
But it’s still not over
“Don’t go chasinv dreams
No, don’t you chase your dreams
Your movements must be screened”
You can’t listen to these things