Letra de St. Broadrick Is In Antarctica

I know you don't want change But nothing is ever what it used to be Grab the rope, hoist yourself up With a copy in hand Comforted by, the Lions of substance A solitude parade Grab the rope, hoist yourself up And drift like ants in hole's water These three angels used to be attorneys It is such a serious thing to me Oh, how i search through the memories Such an experience for me Silence creating bold letters Like not and better These three devils used to be apologies These three angels used to be monuments I tried to find that feeling from that letter For my consistencies It was such a painful thing to see When the shadows didnt bend Like now and then These three devils used to be apostrophes So I destroyed a monument So what I know you don't want change But nothing is ever what it used to be Grab the rope, hoist yourself up With a copy in hand Comforted by, the Lions of substance A solitude parade Grab the rope, hoist yourself up And drift like ants in hole's water