Anythings - Rows of Six

The thinnest crescent moon
I'd better get back soon
Avoid main roads, as I've been told that's where they like to fly
I sneak down alleyways
Behind the preacher's place
A peek inside the cellar spies the room where hell untwined
The servant's empty bed
The girls left her for dead
My torch blows out although I doubt the winds have moved tonight
A stillness in the streets
No night birds call to me
A flicker in the forest and I'm pulled towards my demise
My body shakes in fits
My zombie feet persist
Their wicked skin and ghouls within have got me by the wrist
I've seem them in my dreams
But now I'm not asleep
The fire glows and moonlight shows the knives my flesh will meet

What wine is this?
Metallic crimson bliss
We're born in rows of six
And roam amongst the sticks
Your spectral sights
Pay witness to our flights
Surrender to your fright
A harvest moon delight

Don't go and burn your friends
Crush them 'til they confess
I would doubt you ever found the devils that you fuss about

Written by:
Michael Johnson

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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