What Death Leaves Behind

I was the first match struck at the first cremation
You are my shallow grave, I'll tend you as a sexton
If you're the casket door that's being slammed upon me
I'll be a plague cross painted on your naked body

Well, summer sighed and summoned up hail
Dirty in dish rack drips the holy grail
May be heart-slob but I want 'em to know
Cut and shut us like a portmanteau
We sit around just spitballing
All the witches cackle 'round my cauldron
Recognise the lies from my poker tongue
Is it true?

They say you and me are tautology
What grows from the seeds
Can you quite believe?
Through cracks come the weeds
Long time listener, first time caller
No need to remind me
What death leaves behind me

Why must I lie awake from dusk until the morning
Through fear of being impaled upon errant mattress spring?
Within a waking dream, I finally made my heel turn
Lived life as Super 8 when you were promised Hilton

Propose me as a pardon for sins
Led on barbecue, I'm burnt offerings
I proof-read the Book of Job for the Lord
Edit one, League Cup 2004
We, delicate as a filigree
Cleared a place for us in the chicory
Colosseum blood will dry in the sun
Is it true?

They say you and me are tautology
What grows from the seeds
Can you quite believe?
Through cracks come the weeds
Long time listener, first time caller
No need to remind me
What death leaves behind me

We tread it carefully, we feel around in kid-gloves
What death will leave behind, death will leave behind love
We will flower again, I have surely seen it
We will flower again

They say you and me are tautology
What grows from the seeds
Can you quite believe?
Through cracks come the weeds
Long time listener, first time caller
No need to remind me
What death leaves behind me



Credits
Writer(s): Gareth Paisey, Thomas Bromley
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link