Текст песни The Path of Least Persistence - Figure II - Shannon Wright
There
goes
your
mother
and
her
plague
What
a
terrible
display
Of
a
charcoaled
tongue
That
wouldn't
lend
a
hand
Though
this
dead
was
a
thoughtless
act
With
alcohol
intact
Quietly
she
seeks
the
day
to
pass
With
those
stitches
that
you
clean
You
hold
your
flag
of
your
doleful
plea
Now
there's
nothing
left
to
recall
A
fruitless
title
bestowed
Amongst
someone
you
could
never
know
In
this
plight
of
this
dismay
This
thickness
of
your
plague
She's
a
realm
that's
lost
her
way
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