Current 93 Tanks Of Flies
(and) I had the verbal touch
The silver sliver of nexus
Carved from the bloody water
First-poured
Form drowning
Pulling down the moons and suns
From the thighs of the queen
Of grace and grinding
The bump, the bribe, the breasts
Made me slyly arise
In clouds of candy
And tanks of flies
(Sounded out the blind
Greet the deaf
With Calvary's cavalry
Thundering from on high
And catching lambs with nooses
I was watching the dread that crept up on me
Whilst I was cheaply sleeping
Cheaply singing as the birds
Die over France
There are four hills, and all say
I HAVE COME TO DRAW YOU TO ME
I HAVE COME TO DRAW YOU TO ME
I HAVE COME TO CALL YOU TO ME
I HAVE COME TO DRAW YOU TO ME
