Broken Down

Pasta machine broke down
 By the weed in the field
 I get so nice
 When i see angels face
 I will sip the wine
 Of all the tears you cry
 Feel for me
 Sympathy
 The kind that we all need
 Crimson handed fiend
 Of hate strokes the soul of all
 Saints cannot flee
 The strength of the call
 We just carry on
 As if we know all that is wrong
 Feel for me
 Sympathy
 The kind that we all need
 Placid perspective straight
 Losing hope postponing fate
 Synchronise incarcerate
 Let them eat i can hate
 I can say nothing new
 Despite the doves that flew
 Feel for me
 Sympathy
 The kind that we all need
 Crimson handed fiend
 Of hate strokes the soul of all
 Saints cannot flee
 The strength of the call
 We just carry on
 As if we know all that is wrong
 Feel for me
 Sympathy
 The kind that we all need