Lyrics

Forlorn in the getaway stuck in the mud In his ears are his fingers Slaved, set sail and found nothing to love where there was nothing to share Debris, denizens, luxury and guts Amour sheathed in regalia Tacit, tethered to the scow as it sunk over and over again Euthymia - The new face of the miserable Euthymia - The brave face of the miserable Misborn again ingrate who's tainted work is never done It grazes with the beautiful in hope it becomes one Loaded missives of roaming triffids and rescue missions of faltering fate Things to do in Denbigh when you're dead So, that's what a real man looks like This is what a real man looks like Things to do in Denbigh when you're dead