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Words for Snow

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  • So many call here
    on their way down below
    and I’ll be here burning
    till the end of time
    Thoughts of the falling
    burn from the ceiling to wall
    and I’ll be here waiting
    till the end of time
    And nothing here is safe and nothing here is sacred
    and the thing you care for most will crawl away wounded as you tell it you love it,
    into the dark recesses and hollowed out corners of nothing
    And the last touch is always the hardest
    and the last touch is always the same
    and the last look is the one that will kill you
    and the last touch is the one that will drive you insane
    And as the night fell and the gutters swelled with the roar of the pissing city
    and the falling balling and crawling below
    he sat shaking uncontrollably by the window looking over the pestilent street
    and he sat and he prayed
    and he prayed and he sat
    and he prayed to St. Augustus, St Brigid, Padre Pio,
    saint of all sinners, saint of all fools
    saint of every ******* dying crawling thing beneath him,
    shouting out the names of the dead and forgotten
    And he cried out, “For Christ’s sake help me!
    For Christ's sake get me out of here!
    God of all sick things get me the ******* out of here!
    Get me the ******* out of here!
    Get me the ******* out of here!
    Release me!”
  • So many call here
    on their way down below
    and I’ll be here burning
    till the end of time
    Thoughts of the falling
    burn from the ceiling to wall
    and I’ll be here waiting
    till the end of time
    And nothing here is safe and nothing here is sacred
    and the thing you care for most will crawl away wounded as you tell it you love it,
    into the dark recesses and hollowed out corners of nothing
    And the last touch is always the hardest
    and the last touch is always the same
    and the last look is the one that will kill you
    and the last touch is the one that will drive you insane
    And as the night fell and the gutters swelled with the roar of the pissing city
    and the falling balling and crawling below
    he sat shaking uncontrollably by the window looking over the pestilent street
    and he sat and he prayed
    and he prayed and he sat
    and he prayed to St. Augustus, St Brigid, Padre Pio,
    saint of all sinners, saint of all fools
    saint of every ******* dying crawling thing beneath him,
    shouting out the names of the dead and forgotten
    And he cried out, “For Christ’s sake help me!
    For Christ's sake get me out of here!
    God of all sick things get me the ******* out of here!
    Get me the ******* out of here!
    Get me the ******* out of here!
    Release me!”