Lewis

men of blood, we are the fruit of lust, filled with sin, death and despair. burning straw, this is a harrowing month; our dreams the smoke that fills air. theres blood on my hands. i cant clean them. theres blood. son of man, i give these words to eat, bitter wine for you to drink. four months full the rain leaves nothing left, but the roots go deeper than you think. theres blood on my hands. i cant clean them. theres blood. a kiss, please dont forget the signs ive shown. a heel to bruise your head, the last i hope. were to blame for all the marks on you
[ The Cruelest Month Lyrics ]