Letra de The Soviet
God is love and love is real But the dead are dancing with the dead And whatever's charming disappears While all things lovely only hurt my head As I gather stones from fields Like pearls of water on my fingers' endsAnd I carefully wrap them up in boxes Safe from windows, from things that breakAs the night-time shined like day it saw my sorry face And hair a mess but it liked me best that way Besides, how else could I confess? When I looked down like if to pray Well, I was looking down her dressGood God! Please catch for us the foxes In the vineyard... the little foxesSo turn your ears, you musicians To silence because they only come out when it's quiet Their tails brushing over your eyelids Oh wake up, sleepers, and rise from the dead! Or the fur that they shed that's gonna lay on your bed In a delicate orange-ish cinnamon redAh, but I don't need this! I don't need this My doubts, my loves I don't need this