This most amazing place we call the world slowly bleeding
The wars in the lands all the sorrow all the pain can’t go on
Little children on their knees praying for their mothers and their fathers
Fat man chases piece of pie the baker finds a place to hide so wrong
It’s a wounded world a field of ghosts
Come on your prophets and show us how
Let’s drink from the vine and gather up the tribes
The flags have furled
The bones have curled
Save this wounded world
A rabid pack of dogs disillusioned by the written word of freedom
Souls are seeking refuge for their sins we know the world is all alone
Spirits screaming in the night behold the shining light and resurrection
The bee still searching for her rose taste the tears in her lonely eyes
It’s a wounded world a field of ghosts
Come on your prophets and show us how
Let’s drink for the vine and gather up the tribes
The flags have furled
The bones have curled
Save this wounded world
The wars in the lands all the sorrow all the pain can’t go on
Little children on their knees praying for their mothers and their fathers
Fat man chases piece of pie the baker finds a place to hide so wrong
It’s a wounded world a field of ghosts
Come on your prophets and show us how
Let’s drink from the vine and gather up the tribes
The flags have furled
The bones have curled
Save this wounded world
A rabid pack of dogs disillusioned by the written word of freedom
Souls are seeking refuge for their sins we know the world is all alone
Spirits screaming in the night behold the shining light and resurrection
The bee still searching for her rose taste the tears in her lonely eyes
It’s a wounded world a field of ghosts
Come on your prophets and show us how
Let’s drink for the vine and gather up the tribes
The flags have furled
The bones have curled
Save this wounded world
Contributed by Dq82 - 2021/2/10 - 13:24
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Lyrics by Ian & Brent