Lyrics

A situation that's easily corrected But rarely thought of in advance All the technology ever dreamt of But here there is no light Hands up, here's the guns Where there is manslaughter There are also friends gather in the murk Sparse light has no appeal The overbearing darkness Would seem appropriate But does not our filth hide Faceless unimaginable keeper Red notеs upon the doors An enigmatic whittler of fortunе Exhausted by our prayers