felice brothers, the
i'm wrong
rosie i'm wrong
and i had a lot to drink
the truth is
i'm just stupid
don't ya think?
your walls
your high haunted walls
the folding on my frame
while the chorus
from a world that is wall-less
is soothing the pain
now she's gone
really gone
gone for awhile anyway
o queens
cast iron queens
your skin is cinder grey
so why're you weeping?
as we both lie sleeping
on pallets of hay
vainglory has left us so sorry