Wooden Wand - SPITTING AT THE CAMERAS

Predicated on collective faith or nothing (whichever’s fine)
There’s ox blood on the windmill, it’s in orbit day and night
There’s a balcony adjacent where my old lady makes her calls
And I hope she’ll be here with me when that ivory tower falls

My pistol formed an eager hook and soon we were at war
I briefly drank the sunlight then was grafted in the gore
But I may have overshot it, for before I drew my knife
I scared her with my dreaming, made her afraid of her own life

The foaming formed the shadow of a dragon made of white
Concrete floated in the streets and the fountains were alight
We were spitting at the cameras and were whisked into a car
Where no comfort ever finds you when you forfeit what you are

Written by:
JAMES TOTH

Publisher:
Lyrics © Downtown Music Publishing, Songtrust Ave

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find