Paroles de la chanson The Gift, The Curse, and The Fate par Belly

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Paroles de la chanson The Gift, The Curse, and The Fate par Belly

Peace be upon you, don't let peace be a pawn used
A black rose that only grows to produce thrones made of thorns
For false kings void of roots, family trees branchin' out to low-hangin' poisonous fruit
Mirages of olive branches that never extend to truth
Linin' the Orwellian orchard of forgotten souls
And martyred youth, generations of teardrops waterin' trees that once grew
Blood runnin' like scarlet rivers, floodin' and seepin' through the crust
Deeper and deeper, reachin' the core and burnin', turnin' into the holiest dust
Vessel tattered, but the spirit untouched
Metal birds will eventually rust, sunbirds die willingly at the hands of the unjust
Just to become firebirds soarin' once more above us
Reduced to rubble and labeled dirt, prayin' under birds of prey
Sees waitin' for roots to take in the decayin' flesh of unsculpted clay
Proverbial veins wrappin' around fractured shoulder blades
Willin' to carry the weight of the gift, the curse, and the fate

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