Из альбома: Window Sills
As I pass through these hills, blowing over me a dead chill
And it blows through my bones, I'm in company of ghosts
It's April 17th, 1843, and I've just crossed the desert
With the sunset on my back, skies are turning black
I camp though I know better than to stay in the devil's cauldron
Your heart may protect you, your mind may keep you sane
But your soul will desert you in the devil's cauldron
Hungry and tired, I shake off the cold by the fire
Through the sputtering flames, I see enemies and friends
From the depths of the night, a beauty comes to me and lays down by my pillow
And at the rise of dawn I wake alone and find my body hollow
Because I slept with the devil's children
Your heart may protect you, your mind may keep you sane
But your soul will desert you in the devil's cauldron
My heart I'll carry it, to a physician
My mind I'll take it to a psychologist
My soul is forever lost to them
Your heart may protect you, your mind may keep you sane
But your soul will desert you in the devil's cauldron