Beak to bleak and crossing every line,
The winds of change and the sons of time.
7 & 3 is the striker's name,
Washing his hands as he walks away.
Come on, come on,
The sky is bright!
Our wings are clipped,
But we still might fly away.
Come on, come on,
The sky is bright!
Our wings are clipped,
But we still might fly away.
Curse my master, and his slave,
And his soldiers too.
Curse those fuckers in their castle,
They're all bastards too.
I could be stable, I might be fine.
I don't want to fuck it up this time.
Well, she loves me tender, she loves me strong,
We're star-crossed lovers and we sing this song.
It goes...
Come on, come on.
The sky has is bright!
Our wings are clipped,
But we still might fly away.
Come on, come on,
The sky is bright.
Our wings are clipped,
But we still might fly away.
Curse my master, and his saves,
And his soldiers too.
Curse those fuckers, in their castle.
They're all bastards too.
Away in the night like a thief of old,
Not too skinny and not too bold.
7 & 3 is the striker's name,
Washing his hands as he walks away.
Well, she loves me tender and she loves me strong,
We're star crossed lovers and we sing this song.
It goes...
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