Patrick Wolf

As the belltower blocks the sunlight
All the seeds in our garden fight
To break and blossom all to be adored
And look your skirt is torn
And there's blood on my sheets
Here comes a lowman of the law
Fist tight, banging on the door
And knocking me down on it's weight
And I let him in
As I pass out into a dream
Whooping cranes and woodland beigns
Great white wings beating
In an attic, in a house, in the dead of night
Singing, oh! My Augustine, Augustine!
Oh! Is this forever, ever? Oh, oh
Sweet Augustine, Augustine
What does this mean for us?
Does it mean that I can never change my ways
And that's why, love, you shouldn't stay