歌词
Stake your claim to this empty shell
A seaside fame of auburn swell
And all cleaned out and left for dead
Held on by one last thread
Skip on sands over empty wells
And cut from a ground and there you fell
For a man who could not tell
If he felt it as well
Here the fishermen cast down
From a town left burnt then drowned
In that park, she could not tell
If she felt it as well
Oh my dear, my native soil
For you, I've been so bland
With this Blue Charm and Silver Stoat
Pressed into my hand