Oh, the empires calling,
|
Trying to hear his voice,
|
While he's preaching to the choir,
|
And that choir is death and noise.
|
|
And he closes up his fist, and he sees if they exist.
|
|
Angels with broken wings,
|
Melodic harmonies she sings.
|
She brings you white daffodils,
|
You place them on your windowsill.
|
|
Then you open up your fist, and you see if they exist.
|
|
Well you sit in dark forests,
|
You've been there for quite a while.
|
And when they come to take you,
|
You just sit and smile.
|
|
You say, a¢æ©«Hey, you take this. I'm gonna see if you exist.a¢æ?
|
|
Oh it's time to leave here,
|
And I still have my knife,
|
And it's pressed up against my body,
|
Tonights gonna be the night.
|
|
And I cut my own wrist, just to see if I exist.
|
|
-----------------
|
Empire
|
| The Black Angels |
