Holy Shamoly, said the priest to the girl,
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As he wrapped his arms around her,
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And his guts became her world,
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She said I can't take any more,
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No I can't take any more,
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And she could taste the christ,
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Breath the church,
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Smell the crucifixion,
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Of another fallen angel, hooked up on false religion.
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She's gotta Hole for a soul,
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She's gotta sad, sad tale to tell,
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She's gotta Hole for a soul,
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Of being twisted in a living hell.
|
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Crikey Moses, he said with bottle in his hand,
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Fingers worn thin down to the bone,
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From working on the promised land,
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Fingers worn thin, tattered and torn from scratching,
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All this blood and sand,
|
Said I can't take any more,
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No I can't take any more,
|
He had a loving wife,
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Doting child,
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An Englishman's castle for his home,
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Every mile stood this broken man,
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And every two stood this broken man's dream.
|
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He's gotta Hole for a soul,
|
He's gotta sad, sad tale to tell,
|
He's gotta Hole for a soul,
|
Of being twisted in a living hell.
|
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-----------------
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Hole For A Soul
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| Terrorvision |
