We are the rolling commune of unmade beds
This village green wont hold my legs
and i know
Grass fingers make it slow
Too fast this morning, our bed
ridden ills
their brood die with muddy gills
i know
Grass fingers make it
slow
Well we're all to weak now, to pin our hopes on
Southern tracks,
relentless slopes and
i know
Grass fingers make it slow
We are the rolling
commune of unmade beds
this city green wont hold our legs
i know
Grass
fingers make it slow
Only the fearless
remain inconspicuous
but they're
minutes, just minutes away from us
[verse one]
assume that i will hide
from you
only the fearless
remain inconspicuous
but they're minutes, just
minutes away from.....