broken down

pasta machine
 broke down by the weed
 in the field
 i get so nice 
when i see angels face
 i will sip the wine 
of all the tears you cry - 

feel for me sympathy 
the kind that we all need.. 

crimson handed  fiend of hate 
strokes the soil of all saints 
cannot flee the strength of the call 
we just carry on as if we know all 
that is wrong 

feel for me sympathy 
the kind that we all need 

placid, perspective straight 
losing hope postponing fate 
synchronise incarcerate 
let them eat i can hate
i can say nothing new 
despite the doves that flew 

feel for me sympathy 
the kind that we all need