Wilde Lager

Rome
 wilde lager
 we're clubbing traitors in green summer fields
 reality is changing colour
 all the nation's sad sweetness
 is flowing from their eyes
 and kneaded into time
 the sun in our eyes and the rain on our boots
 as black as our gift to the world
 in this warm bath of black blood
 we would give our skin for a beautiful drum
 we're chasing traitors through green summer fields
 all the way back across the waters
 and we would do just about anything
 just to translate this void into substance
 wanting to daub time over
 with thick colours
 in this sultry heat
 this stifling fever heat
 we are tender young gods
 love and despair locked in an embrace
 two wilted flowers black and green
 love and despair locked in an embrace
 truth changed its smell as it aged
 in the sweat of the august days
 in the summer of surrender