(No clouds of greeks)
(The mouldings on)
(Our floor)
I know these halls
I've loved them all
We can't forget
The house
When you hear the sound of all the people on the ground
It's too late to come around, tuck your belly in your chest
And see how close we are
Seven shades of brown drip from the bannisters and now
You know you need to come around, put your belly to the crest
And see how close we are
Your face, so sweet
Not bones, not meat
(Just gradings of)
The shore
(Oh priestly pray)
The ash has died
We can't forget
The house
Fold The Cloth
Oh cut the cloth oh
Fold the cloth
Oh cut the cloth oh
Fold the cloth
Oh cut the cloth oh
Fold the cloth
Oh cut the clo-oth