{ put the sound off }
Bratislava.
I have been wandering long
Came across your, oh so delicate, delicate frame
Brittle boned, you sat crouched and decayed
Two hundred years or more
Wrinkled map on skin, on floor
Warped window wood
Time had bent it good
Warped window wood
Life had bent it where it stood
In the deep of my sleep
In the depth of my night
In the dar...
Darkest of days
Till your dust is the clay on which we lie
We are dug up and dusted
Yet again
Dug up and dusted
And sent on our way
In the deep of my sleep
In the depth of my night
In the dar...