Peasant Hands - Black Leaves

Garden of tar
Where pale limbs char
Like born children of rapture
How they splinter
How they turn
Contagion inked as fine print
Cancerous lust
Contagion inked as fine print
Cancerous sludge
Hopeless their words
Reflect much worse
Jealous human nature
How it splinters
How it turns
Contagion inked as fine print
Cancerous sludge
Contagion inked as fine print
Cancerous death claims all life
Their arms are branches
Whom had born
Dark fruit
Their arms are branches
Whom had born
Dark fruit
Their arms are branches
Whom had born
Dark fruit
They sing of thorn crowns
With their poisoned mouths
And their arms
Disconnected
From our brother nature
They sing of thorn crowns
With their poisoned words
And their arms
Disconnect us
From our brother nature
It's in their nature to destroy
All that is dear to us
Our children and our hope
There is a price thats paid for order
Disconnecting
From our brother nature
Its in their nature
To destroy
All that is dear to us
Our children and our hopes
This is the price we pay
Disconnect
Garden of tar
Garden
Garden of filth paint me
With your lies
Like burnt leaves their
Hands curl inward
Slowly transformed
DEAD DEAD DEAD
Fall off of branches whom
Once gave them life
Black leaves
And while these black leaves dance In their death weave
There is no contempt
There is no contempt
To these black leaves
I will sing
Til my heart is content
Oh
To these black leaves
I will sing

Written by:
Joseph Flores

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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