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Sticks and stones
May break my body
Why don’t they use them to build
With all these midnight men running
With the skin of the soul to the hill
Suspicion is sacred
Why do good men die
Midnight men running around again
Midnight men, miserable thinking
And all these midnight men
Will live till the end
The misery
Bottom of
A deep blue you,
Turn into you
Cold dark end
Living sequel like the
The home for the dead.
Cold dark dread
Misery sits like a hole in my head
Write a song that never ends
About the fruit of the womb
That never lands
With the midnight men
and they’re feasting on
the fruit of the womb
of the song that will never end
And all these midnight men that you say,
Hell is on earth
Because people are worse