Landmine Marathon
Cutting Flesh And Bone
Traveling worlds and passing nightsFrom whence you cameSurgeons that cut flesh and boneBut cause no painWhere gouging eyesAnd severing handsMake canvases for threeFor when the morning comesThese wounds do healThree bottles on a servant's plateThree bottles on a servant's plateFilled with hands, eyes and heartBut servant and soldierHave soiled heartsAnd ill luck comes creeping inMiserable girl what shall you doThree bottles goneA sinning handA swine heartAnd two sly eyesWhen morning comes the wounds do healOne man runs to where the dirt is deepestFace down and exposedThe other's hands that twitch like a thiefAnd eyes blinded by the nightSetting fire wrongs the rightNow beg for your bodies back
From Letras Mania