Somewhere out there just before the horizon ends
Sits a turnip farmer all alone,

Talking about how the 7 deadly sins are stitched into every fabric, every Fibre of the universe
The worms stuffing their faces with greed and vegetable, stop to listen to him intently
As do the turnips, the soil, the nothingness and  even a prophet or two,

He talks and talks, that's all he does
Abou...

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There's cloud all around me
Grey from my ashtray
But I am not lost, not doomed,
Not yet anyway

This swamp tests me 
These waters are foul
My senses have failed me
My heart has thrown in the towel

These sweet limes hanging nearby
All poisonous fruits
My throat is so dry
And their citrus, a deep hue

I know better than that, I should
I should have tried harder than that, I could
T...

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