Neil Howell - The Spiral

Bright young eyes look to paternal wards
One by one they become the horde
Learning things that cause mistrust and harm
From those who reap sick fields inside a glass jar

Do what I say though my words are poor
Self-acquired delusions of grandeur
My poison thoughts sent to the wilds
Don't let me down, you are my child

It spirals on through generations.

Written by:
Neil Howell

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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