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The Dead Deads
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Sour Blooms
Sour Blooms
Voices from the memories call to you
My friends inside my closet tell the truth
The avenue... the avenue close behind
They follow you... they follow you.
Not your kind
Its coming true... its coming true
The dream that I had last night
Inside of you, they rendezvous
Out of my mind
Storm of mud
From the sky into the seas
Born of blood
What to make of all these things?
When the mountains overturn
Clinging to the trees in flight
When you see the forest burn
Sour blooms the night.
The disarray... the disarray clean and bright
It swallows you... it swallows you in pure white
Its coming true... its coming true
The dream that I had last night
The fallen lands... the idle hands
The end in sight
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Storm of mud
From the sky into the seas
Born of blood
What to make of all these things?
When the mountains overturn
Clinging to the trees in flight
When you see the forest burn
Sour blooms the night.
All of you... I want not some, not part, but all of you
To hear the message that is bleeding through
The static version of your life. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!
The avenue... the avenue close behind
All of you... I want not some, not part, but all of you
To hear the message that is bleeding through
The static version of your life. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!
The avenue... the avenue close behind
They follow you... they follow you
Not your kind
Its coming true... its coming true
The dream that I had last night
I thought of you... I thought of you
Our last goodnight
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