Slanted People - King's Garden Lyrics
A cold wind she blowsIn spite of your silence.A harsh light...You know?Safely, in violence,A sweet star above...Hurt and desireSo far below.The King cries out for more...Dismay, at surrender...Where white hours await.Decay, so hollow,A message it makes.The King cries out for more...His garden grows,A sickly sore.His garden grows,A sickly sore.His back now turned,Against a wall,They'll have his head,Have his head.His garden grows,A sickly sore.His garden grows,A sickly sore.There's a dagger in his poisoned mind,His garden grew,A sickly sore...He wants more.The King cries out for more...