Dyed in the Wool - Widowspeak

There wasn’t no harm in it, no harmony

He never said a thing

That he didn’t mean

His was a turning wheel

Which may be bad to you

But he was cut from the cloth

That was fast to the seams

Here you are, dyed in the wool

Here you are, dyed in the wool

Here you go, feel the pull through your eyelet

Pulling you along with his eyes

I never seen a hem so hard to find

Where did it stem?

Will it run from the pain?

His is a turning wheel

May look bad to you

He was cut from the cloth

That is fast to the seam

Here you are, dyed in the wool

Here you are, dyed in the wool

Here you go, feel the

There wasn’t no harm in it, no harmony

There wasn’t no harm in it, no harmony

There wasn’t no harm in it, no harmony

There wasn’t no harm in it, no harmony