Letra de 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
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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