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Welcome to the world
Welcome to the aching world
A woeful world
Of broken people

She's really a good girl
From a good family, yeah
They say
the sweet temptation  for cyanide 

Inamorata 
Tattooed her scars 
Lasting forever 
A woeful work of art 

Buried alive 
By her own self-esteem 
Six feet
possessed by the spite, woeful irrelevance
So quick to ignite, impulse to indict, defense for incompetence
For what it's worth, it was over before it began
for Thy sake
A King, a King is born, they say, which
King this king would kill
O woe and woeful heavy day when
Wretches have their will!

Lulla, la
on the shore of Babylon
Whoah, what a woeful situation!

But I and I and I and I and I and I and I
Have done no wrong
I said, I and I and I and I and I and I
To bring souls to the wind
Beyond the veils of damnation
To the one without face or name

Woeful one of endless sight beyond the veil of time
Of grand
the woeful sight, who heard the woeful cry:
"Water! One little drop, I beg! For love of Christ who died ..."
It was the little Jean Desprez who turned
all scattered all forgetful of our councils
Left their homelands going westward wild and woeful

And the man with bearded faces, the men with skin so
the new that made me think on Ireland dearly
While soft the wind blew down the glen and shook the golden barley 

'Twas hard the woeful words to frame
and crown.

Fair are the meadows, fairer still the woodlands,
Robed in the blooming garb of spring;
Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer,
Who makes the woeful
the new that made me think on Ireland dearly
While soft the wind blew down the glen and shook the golden barley 

'Twas hard the woeful words to frame
And what he discovered was woeful to me
Baby, if you intend to stay with me
Then you can't see the guys I know you see
Come on, let's make up and promise
listened to your woeful stories
The ones I'm sure you told a thousand times before me
You should've never intimated we were lovers
When you know very well
the new that made me think on Ireland dearly
While soft the wind blew down the glen and shook the golden barley 

'Twas hard the woeful words to frame
prodigal with his life 
Make impossible shit right with
Gang-ties, crime, lies 
Erase wise, woeful words of Mother 
Replaced them with absurdities
prodigal with his life 
Make impossible shit right with
Gang-ties, crime, lies 
Erase wise, woeful words of Mother 
Replaced them with absurdities
O bonny Portmore, I am sorry to see
Such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree
For it stood on your shore for many's the long day
Till
Change the mood I'm in 
For a little while
Let me see that grin 
Let me see you smile

No soulful tales that fret and frown
No woeful wails
Change the mood I'm in 
For a little while
Let me see that grin 
Let me see you smile
 
No soulful tales that fret and frown
No woeful wails
the new that made
Me think on Ireland dearly
While soft the wind blew down the glade
And shook the golden barley

'Twas hard the woeful words to frame
the new that made me think on Ireland dearly
While soft the wind blew down the glen and shook the golden barley 

'Twas hard the woeful words to frame
Fair are the meadows, fairer still the woodlands
Robed in the blooming garb of spring
Jesus is Fairer, Jesus is purer
Who makes the woeful heart
road is paved in gold One road is just a road

In my Blakean year Such a woeful schism
The pain of our existence Was not as I envisioned

Boots that
haunting skinless forlorn
Swaying demons eyeless creatures
Hearts still beating
There the fallen thickets row after row
Dangling helpless damned and woeful

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