On the setting sun, the horizon burns ’Til all that’s left, miles of blackened dirt A flood of sour milk, across the killing floor The taste of salted flesh, never taste so good Don’t cry no more, over broken bones
On the setting sun, the horizon burns ’Til all that’s left, miles of blackened dirt A flood of sour milk, across the killing floor The taste of salted flesh, never taste so good Don’t cry no more, over broken bones