The prophet told me
That you would be lonely,
For you were born
On the drifters dawn.
Under a red moon,
To the bluebird's sad tune,
And as the sun it rose,
Well the wind turned cold.
But oh the silence, when they found you there,
Hell amongst your head.
Right or wrong son, I'll be there,
In the hell amongst your head.
Oh Jesus help me,
From the wise and wealthy,
I'm just skin and bone,
And they're both growing old.
Inside a red room,
The sin it found it's true bloom.
And as the sun it rose,
We did the things untold.
But oh the silence, when they found you there,
Hell amongst your head.
Right or wrong son, I'll be there,
In the hell amongst your head.
So strip out all those faceless truths just
Gimmie something I can use.

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN