Bucolic

Looking back it came on slowly
The feeling of unrest
Boiling up, descending on me
With a whimper go the best

I'm looking for your head
you're not who I have known
You proudly kill them dead
And upon them build your throne

Standing firm on looking backwards
Tell me otherwise
Nothing anyone could tell you
Take comfort in the lies

This place has lost its mind
Of that you can be sure
We're twisted up inside
And I mourn for who we were

When your fires burn the pages
Of all the things you know
When your lost without salvation
You reap what you did sow

This place has lost its mind
Of that you can be sure
We're twisted up inside
And I mourn for who we were



Credits
Writer(s): Daniel Grant
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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