Drawn From Bees - Undertakers Тексты

This old man is barely moving
He should not think less
If his hand is rarely moving
We should not digress

So Sara, where are the undertakers
And where'd they take me?

Sold his soul to pay his passage
He should wait for death
If he saves his silver wisely
He can sleep well dressed

So Sara, where are the undertakers
And where'd they take me?