The Rust I Feed Songtext / Lyric

Like Apollinaire - with soft words,

I though, what I overcarres you...

But I've wrapped around my hand

Barbed wire - bloody, long...

And even so I took my boots off

I was smelling of my thoughts

Thoughts crooked like a any dick

Thoughts like rainy, heavy clouds...



And Benedict's strong fist

Hanging over sleepy head

I was looking in his eyes

Can he hear your swan-song?

Let the night carry your singing

Up your ears! it is worth!

Let Amadeus turns in his grave

Let him curse - it's not his note...






The rust that I feed, that I grow

Resistant for any words

The rust that I feed, that I grow

Resistant for any words



The man who carried the Christ

He's got a knife in his hand

When he will mature - he'll strike

You know, I know - I deserve

The night carry your song

Up your ears - it is worth!

Julius turns in his grave

Let him curse - that's not his words...



The rust that I feed, that I grow

Resistant for any words

The rust that I feed, that I grow

Resistant for any words



The rust that I feed, that I grow

Resistant for any words

The rust that I feed, that I grow

Resistant for any words...