Voici des informations à propos de la chanson The Severed Garden (Adagio).
Wow, I'm sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
The servants have the power dog-men & their mean women
pulling poor blankets over our sailors
(& where were you in our lean hour)
Milking your moustache?
or grinding a flower?
I'm sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the T.V.Tower.
I want roses in my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
for the plant that's plowed
They are waiting to take us into the severed garden
Do you know how pale & wanton thrillful
comes death on strange hour
unannounced, unplanned for like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all & gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws
No more money, no more fancy dress
This other Kingdom seems by far the best until its other jaw reveals incest & loose obedience to a vegetable law
I will not go
Prefer a Feast of Friends
To the Giant family
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