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Shannon Wright - The Path Of Least Persistence (Figure II) Lyrics

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  • 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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