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lyrics

Waves spit on my memories
flies lick remains like salt on a cliff
swallowing desolation’s wan stains
and skies without any prayin’
You have generated just this
eyes which float on cages and black tones
settlin’ on to paltry cus+
toms while humans go dancing.

NOW YOU’RE JUST THE KING
OF THE SILLY ONES…
CROWN SLIPS OUT OF YOUR HEAD AS IF IT WERE SNOW.
NOW YOU’RE JUST THE LORD
OF THE LOSERS AND
YOUR SCEPTRE GIVES IN WITHOUT A LAMENT.

Frenzied worker ants all lined up
bow in front of ghosts an’ gods
Heavily made-up Golems smiling
from rotating chariots.



But a shadow comes in
breaking through the wall of truth
while that fire is eating its flesh
passing through roads and veins/nerves.

SO YOU’RE JUST THE KING OF THE FOOLISH ONES…
CROWN SLIPS OUT OF YOUR HEAD AS IF (I)T WERE SNOW.
WELL YOU’RE JUST THE LORD OF THE WRETCHED AND
YOUR SCEPTRE GIVES IN WITHOUT A LAMENT.

WELL, YOU’RE JUST THE KING OF THE SILLY ONES…
CROWN SLEEP OUT OF YOUR HEAD AS IF IT WERE SNOW.
NOW YOU’RE JUST THE LORD OF THE FOOLISH ONES,
YOUR SCEPTRE GIVES IN WITHOUT A LAMENT.

credits

from SHAPES AND COLOURS FROM THE LAND OF GOD (by SIDERARTICA), released December 4, 2020
Music and lyrics by Elena Alice Fossi

license

all rights reserved

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