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| Erasure Wild Crown Of Thorns Fire of the sun Flowers crumble into dust The seed shall scatter and die Light in her eyes Pours black on their lives We gather round a funeral pyre And here we stand In old England's land Shattered glass on the ground There are no words To console this earth To restore old England's pride Never in a million or so years Did we suffer so much bloodshed Here comes the man With the warm and gentle hands Her name burned into his brow Scorn in her eyes Her back to the cries We spit upon the life That never was And here we stand In old England's land The rose is choked by it's thorn She will cast salt for your wound Old England wears no crown Never in a million or so years Did we suffer so much bloodshed We didn't want to hurt you But it's not over yet No never in a million or so years Did we suffer so much bloodshed |
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