In the night where I live,
There's a strange force in your kiss oh.
All's divine in desire.
With an isle of philosophy,
Burning scrolls in the naked heat,
Oh how coy is your little boy. No!
Cause I know it don't read that well. Yeah!
I got buried; no it won't be long, before I rise in.
I got buried; no it won't be long. Yeah!
In the night where I live,
Your children sway they fuel the kitch.
Raise their glass to soviet cries in the war,
And in shadows.
Outright, in times of old,
Fumes are falling, smell them burn,
Like always, yes always.
Now here!
Cause I know it don't read that well.
And I know, only time will tell, me.
I got buried; no it won't be long before I rise in.
I got buried; no it won't be long before I rise in song!
And I know it don't read that well! Yeah!
I got buried; no it won't be long, before I rise in.
I got! Oh Buried; Oh no!
Cause I know I got you!
