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lyrics

It should have been a clear summers day
But the fog came in a took it all away
Murky weather spreading like a plague
The rare thoughts that occur to me are vague
I can't think straight through this splitting headache
The day passes by, I never truely wake
Just sit here in a stupor, never stir
Focus on nothing, everything's a blur

I have nothing to offer, I came here with empty hands
In the corner of my vision I see an hourglass trickling sand
But I just sit here expectant with my empty withered hands
A wayfaring stranger with no faith in a promised land

These motorways are wrapping around my brain
I can't remember where I am again
My canteen has run dry, I have no motivation
No compass, no destination
Just go where the gale blows this frail body
In circles with the dust spinning around me
End up with the dead leaves rotting in the gutter
The smell of decay with every word I utter

I have nothing to offer, I came here with empty hands
In the corner of my vision I see an hourglass trickling sand
But I just sit here expectant with my empty withered hands
A wayfaring stranger with no faith in a promised land

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All In Vain England, UK

Banjo-driven følkened crüst with rowdy, stompy, Anarcho thrashers to slow, emotional, doomy dirges.

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