I am this handful of men Who claim this pity upon them I am the harlot's sign I am the fire brigade Flying in end the raid I am a curse benign I am a traveler of fleeting thoughts And swollen dreams I am your stale wine I am of one, to multiply To drench the swamplands in the sky I am the dotted bottom line
Gather! Your belongings They are mine Smother! Your disciples They are mine
So then the pilots Gather to praise the light And out they go In search of fights...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
