The Procession - The Dear Hunter

The blood, how it paints such a scene

Foul routine, pedigree

Mouth agape, stuttered hands attempt to flail, and finally agree

Her heart ceases its rhythm

Somewhere, trumpets decay

In the front by the well, wishing wishes that deny the stale smell in the hay

There, no one cry

Place these over her eyes

We are broken, alone

We are broken, alone

She’s inanimate;

bloodless elegance

Fatal fascination breeds a bloom of misery

Helpless hiding tongues, bathed in revulsion

Here lies unfinished beauty, wilting premature

You can’t be too sure

No, you can’t be too sure

Reserved, always playing the part of a boy left alone

He proceeds to the road beyond the home he’d learned to call his own

She’s inanimate;

bloodless elegance

Fatal fascination breeds a bloom of misery

Helpless hiding tongues, bathed in revulsion

Here lies unfinished beauty, wilting premature

You can’t be too sure

No, you can’t be too sure

(One life for another)(x24)

One life for another (x23)

One life for another!

(x6)

She’s inanimate;

bloodless elegance

Fatal fascination breeds a bloom of misery

Helpless hiding tongues, bathed in revulsion

Here lies unfinished beauty, wilting premature

You can’t be too sure

You can’t be too sure