Print

I don't want to fall on the lame,I don't want to hurt their fathers.The Black Hut burns on the ridge everydayYou got to run away from that slaughterAnd forget the beauty of the rainsIt is beauty that moves us alongInto the grass that strokes our gravesWe shall be brave, we shall be gay,And stick a needle into the sun.I don't want to call out their name,I hear it in the rough and the heather.I'm standing at the edge of a valley and it's cold.The villagers? They hate me, but I know you are alone.So stick it in my heart and let me keep it safe and low.What a way to love: it is beauty that moves us along:Into the grass that strokes our graves, we shall be brave, we shall be gay,And stick a needle in the sun.I built the walls, and I built the walls...[from liner notes] From Letras Mania