Gyves - The Poor In Spirit | Текст песни

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• Gyves
• The Poor In Spirit

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The autumn bleeds with ruby blood of virgin boys
All of their dreams are blended with wet mud and spittle
It seems like i am guided by an angel voice
Deeper in slums, full of rapists, drunkards and cripples

The nook is stripped by moon like lad by his first whore
Old crones in garlands keep horny dogs in bedrooms
Not sure if silver or just puddles on a floor?
A perfect place to taste a pleasure in the doldrums

Stray kids are shivering in rags inside ramshackle huts
Their anxious sleep is wrapped up in the lace of hunger
Lice sleeping in their hairs, worms sleeping in their guts
This way of living is a sail without an anchor

Face of a dead tramp is gleamed with beatific smile
Poor fellow did yield up the ghost in stinking alley
But for the city, where the streets drown deep in bile
Such wretched ending's not the worst of grand finale