Текст песни Sewing The Dead

Fingers in every single hole, trying to stop this bleeding dyke

Vultures feed on what is left of this pathetic life

Is the tide rising

I need to know

You could die trying

I need to know

How can we live

Our lives spent sewing the dead

Brings me to my knees

I spend my time in a private room with dirt walls six feet high

No matter how I clean my cage, the roaches multiply
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If I die trying

Who gets my soul

If I die crying

Who cares to know

How can we live

Our lives spent sewing the dead

Brings me to my knees

And how can we fly if life's spent sewing the dead

Who will set me free

It's only depth that separates this old rut from a grave

And if I fill the ground with gold, my demons come to play