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Beulah
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Score From Augusta
Lyricist：Miles Laurence Kurosky
The room wallpaper
The pages of your letters that you once said
You wrestle with the bodies
That wash like unchained rivers against your shore
An army is waiting, their secret places
That gently twist around your bed
The south will be spared
Bullets flying fast from her eyes
With that we're fine
We etch our names in candles
They're heart shaped and they flicker inside our chests
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The ghost of our brethren
Spin tales which are hidden much like ours
A bother's fight in a holy field
Where their new loves come and their old loves go
And they just wilt like Spanish moths with dew in their eyes
Tears for our Lord and for the ones He spares
When He passed away
It's off off off with their heads and the whores He loves
And the lepers He claims that He can cure, cannot compete
With those human summer days that we would share
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