| It was the year the crows and the locusts came
|
| The fields drank dry the rain
|
| The fields are bleeding
|
| «Daddy don’t cry, it’ll be alright»
|
| She puts some water on the wound
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| And hums a little tune
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| While her courage puddles on the ground
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| Pooling, pooling
|
| See the murder and the swarm descend
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| And the night is getting thick
|
| The moon turning her tricks
|
| She’ll betray you every time
|
| It was the year the crows and the locusts came
|
| The fields drank dry the rain
|
| The fields are bleeding
|
| It was the age the foxes came for the fields
|
| We were bleeding as we bowed to kneel
|
| And pray for mercy, pray for mercy
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| The rumble is low and the heat is high
|
| Got a feeling that there’s rain out in the oil black sky
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| Gonna chase away the devil when that song does rise
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| Gonna plead the blood, gonna plead the blood
|
| It was the year the crows and the locusts came
|
| The fields drained dry the rain
|
| The fields are bleeding
|
| It was the age the foxes came for the fields
|
| We were bleeding as we bowed to kneel
|
| And pray for mercy, pray for mercy
|
| She limps on up to the top of a mound
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| Looks at the faltered harvest
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| Feels her sweat in the ground and the burn in her nose
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| And the knowing in her guts something’s still gonna grow
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| She ain’t leaving 'till it does
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| What can wash away my sin
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| Nothing but the blood…
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| What can make me whole again
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| Nothing but the blood… |