The scent of my hands is familiar To fosterly men in their coats Who guard not their spirits from fire Fire, fire, fire, fire Who speak with some tenderly coax
The tinge of my eyes is familiar To fosterly men in their coats Who fiend close, close, close To their closely homes And ruminate the walls up with ghosts
The air is familiar the sound is not still Dead voices cover their moats They fill the cloth totes with The rustles of earth And the crying, detritioning bones
The dust off my knuckles familiar To culminated piles, to culminated piles of bones That shift when the earth quakes And trembles, trembles And quarries men up to their, And quarries men up to their thrones
The scent of my skin is familiar To fosterly men in their coats Who guard not their spirits from fire Fire, fire, fire, fire Who speak with some tenderly coax
The air is familiar the sound is not still Dead voices cover their moats They fill the cloth totes with The rustles of earth
La teinte de mes yeux est familière Aux hommes accueillants dans leurs manteaux Qui se rapprochent, rapprochent, rapprochent D´assez près de leur maison Et remâchent les murs de fantômes
Accueil
💃🎤 Paroles de chanson Française et Internationnales