Forgive me, master, if I hear no rhyme in your glory ode As it was sung in the days of yore Now we sing our own You see, I got this dream of turning grey And having cleared off every plate And to never look to tomorrow's rogues To say they went too far today, hey!
To long to awaken every soul From the calm that quells their storm From the peace that blinds them through the times When they should have gone to war Mother, cry and weep for your bright babe Father, hold her through the rains Let the thieves not take her away from me And turn her to a slave of the trades
The dreams of the morning Let me not die mourning May the sirens turn a'shrugging As we carry on a'laughing As we carry on a'laughing all the way
May there always be fish in your streams And water in your wells And to those that peddle empty heavens We'll take your silver and run like hell May there always be rage in your heart When a master brings the reigns To detest the thieves of our daughters and sons And raise from the dead today
The dreams of the morning Let me not die mourning May the devils come a'crying Carry me away a'laughing As we all go a'laughing to storytelling gravesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
