I have often told you stories about the way I lived the life of a drifter waiting for the day when I`d take your hand and sing you songs Then maybe you would say Come lay with me love me and I would surely stay
But I feel I`m growing older And the songs that I have sung Echo in the distance Like the sound of a windmill goin` `round I guess I`ll always be a soldier of fortune
Many times I`ve been a traveller I looked for something new in days of old When nights were cold I wandered without you But those days I thought my eyes had seen you standing near Though blindness is confusing It shows that you`re not here
Now I feel I`m growing older And the songs that I have sung Echo in the distance Like the sound of a windmill goin` `round I guess I`ll always be a soldier of fortune Yes, I can hear the sound of a windmill goin` ` round I guess I`ll always be a soldier of fortune
Liquid is in your throat For hopeless delight After all you fell in love with death Life has aborted All you've had and all you became The night is calling, you pray forth A barren waste is your land Crops they were sown to die This skin is a mirror The eyes hover with ignorance Hell throb from your lips Sucked in and safe from the world of sleep All years caring for a liar The barren drift road is winding higher You're a moth too close to the fire You are stuck in a beautiful future Changing and waiting and seeking the truth of it all Fleeting in sorrow Pushing your spirit away Seeking the weakness of dislike Whispered from the heart To be, we're all in the mourning To despair [?] Cries out: ""The restless will also... die."" Resurrection covered with death Drawing the life under one A fact tied to the earth The soul's a victim, a follower Oh, mother! [Incoherent growling] For us to see The blink of an eye And the pride of a mother Drawn close in a mother's son And the love from a father Was used by a father's son Over warrior's token Misspoken lives on The language unimportant So fair and so just All the land is taken
So many years to clean the slate Endless despair within its wake His touch soiling what used to be clean His gaze burning on the edge of our dreams
No more Cold pace Slow days (?)
And again he rides in It's September and he covets the gullible Skeletal wish, hunter A thousand lies Cast from the throne of secrecy
Hear him spewing forth a meaning to miserables lies See the twisted hand of doubt seal the affair The insect trust, believer Your body a vehicle to
Pearls before swine they are nothing but blind Submit to nothing and swallow my spit of scorn Invisible king, dying Procession of woe, struck down by sorrow
A burden so great Weighs heavy on old and withered beliefs The swift solution crumbles Beneath the mock notes of a masterpiece Death in his eyes, waiting Spiraling judgement, provoked in the rains
This futile test drowned in the levee of deception
In the year of his sovereign Rid us of your judgement Heir apparent