Lover of things, won't you agree
how the winter could bring the darkest spring?
With hell on your face, dirt on the walls and the back of your face
You grew and complained
Father of three, won't you believe that the ones in between,
the ones that are blamed,
of fickle faith,
cynics that seethe
how their children are cursed, cursed to believe
like marrow without bone
To live in a house with no home
where the son is the darkest sea
he crawls with the curs in the weeds
where had you been son?
not in the street, not in the yard.
only once, i'll call off the days, if you call off your guard.
where had you gone?
where had you been?
how the winter could bring the darkest spring?
With hell on your face, dirt on the walls and the back of your face
You grew and complained
Father of three, won't you believe that the ones in between,
the ones that are blamed,
of fickle faith,
cynics that seethe
how their children are cursed, cursed to believe
like marrow without bone
To live in a house with no home
where the son is the darkest sea
he crawls with the curs in the weeds
where had you been son?
not in the street, not in the yard.
only once, i'll call off the days, if you call off your guard.
where had you gone?
where had you been?