The Ghost Of A Thousand - Neptune Lyrics
The Ghost Of A Thousand - Neptune Lyrics
Put me to sea, raise the flag on my eulogy, put me to sea, better off with the waters deep. Raise the flag, raise the flag, Tell the preachers the sky's gone black. Salt the earth, raise the trees, tell the preachers there's nothing left of me. I've been carved from stone and rock, they chip right into me it's f*cking pitiful. I was saved when I met these guys, they chip right into me it's f*cking true. Put me to sea, raise the flag on my eulogy, put me to sea, better off with the waters deep. Here's the future they have sold us, clean, safe: It is nothing to be proud of, coal burns beneath us and rots. We've got charity, we've got motor oil. There's no substitute for that hope, you'd better drop to your knees. These are the songs of the molten lava, this is the whinging of the galley slave, this is for souls with their homes divided, for the fathers who don't know their kids. This is the home for the broken hearted, this is for the passing of the bright idea. Sleep at the bottom of the sea.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Put me to sea, raise the flag on my eulogy, put me to sea, better off with the waters deep. Raise the flag, raise the flag, Tell the preachers the sky's gone black. Salt the earth, raise the trees, tell the preachers there's nothing left of me. I've been carved from stone and rock, they chip right into me it's f*cking pitiful. I was saved when I met these guys, they chip right into me it's f*cking true. Put me to sea, raise the flag on my eulogy, put me to sea, better off with the waters deep. Here's the future they have sold us, clean, safe: It is nothing to be proud of, coal burns beneath us and rots. We've got charity, we've got motor oil. There's no substitute for that hope, you'd better drop to your knees. These are the songs of the molten lava, this is the whinging of the galley slave, this is for souls with their homes divided, for the fathers who don't know their kids. This is the home for the broken hearted, this is for the passing of the bright idea. Sleep at the bottom of the sea.