CORRIGER LES PAROLES
Paroles : All Souls
A carnival, a flesh farewell
Heissens rising from the, from the dead
"Wyman-Elvis," calls our gurrel
And counts the ash to where to where he bled
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight"
At the first a crimson mist
At the second sleeplessness
At the third a broken tryst
At the fourth, lonesomeness
Gawly the sweethearts leaves
The soldier's tears
The Riddle river grieves
"Wyman-Elvis disappears"
Only in a scrid of flesh
Hooked upon the hart's-tongue fern
Only by her own gooseflesh
Knows she somewhen he'll return
Heissens rising from the, from the dead
"Wyman-Elvis," calls our gurrel
And counts the ash to where to where he bled
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight"
At the first a crimson mist
At the second sleeplessness
At the third a broken tryst
At the fourth, lonesomeness
Gawly the sweethearts leaves
The soldier's tears
The Riddle river grieves
"Wyman-Elvis disappears"
Only in a scrid of flesh
Hooked upon the hart's-tongue fern
Only by her own gooseflesh
Knows she somewhen he'll return
