Testo
All of the falling on the ground
Hollerin' in ground
I lay down a shrine and I
Come with the autumn to tear it down
Orange and brown and I lay a soft down
For all the waiting, all in line
Brethren bathing bones in brine
Separate your light from lime
Our mortal bind
Under the spell of full November moon
Light on the broom, frost in my room
In through a window came a ghost I knew
She paid me a visit while I was in my bed
"Sleepy," she said, "sleep as though dead
For in the morning you are called"
Is what she said
To the high desert, war is raging
You must go to the battlefield
And follow the cry of men rampaging
And gather the ones that won't heal
Down through a cloud of smoke to the promised land
Many are dead, river runs red
"For my god and for my king" is what he said
Oh, I came down to my knees with my lips to his ear
My hand to his chest, his wounded breast
"For my god and for my king, I will not rest"
But in the high desert, you are dying
For your god and his ghost and the son
Do not hold to the earth on which you are lying
For the kingdom can never be won
All of the falling on the ground
Hollerin' in ground
I lay down a shrine and I
Come with the autumn to tear it down
Orange and brown and I lay a soft down
For all are waiting, all in line
Brethren bathing bones in brine
Separate your light from lime
Let go of the earth
