Lyrics:
the mountains high
With cavalry and infantry to take him they did try
He laughed at them with scorn until at last 'twas said
By a false-hearted woman he was
Oh list to the lay of a poor Irish harper
And scorn not the strains of his old, withered hands
But remember his fingers, they once could move
But to scoff and scorn
The builders rejected stones
Where is Your Love?
Where is Your Love?
Is there a use for Your hands and heart?
You plot and ploy
The creature steps upon the fear and scorn
Of the souls marked by blood and denial
With a treat of destiny, yes, treat of destiny
Sent from the flames in
You try to run
But you can't escape yourself
A curse of torment
Trapped in for own hell
Swallowed by your pride
You're in pain and anxious
It's
I just pray that you're concealing
That you compensate
Can't feel a thing in your hand
For once I feel important
Not tryna lose my focus
Time I
Told
Tears have been our bread and wine
And our enemies mock us to scorn
By Your strength, by Your strength
Restore us, O God of Hosts
Let Your hand be upon
that isn't torn
A heart that will not harden
A place that I can be born
In my secret garden
A rose without a thorn
A lover without scorn
If I
button window, who I am
I existed in a womb, just like an abyss
Came from behind the sun, my hands balled in a fist
Punching on my moms stomach,
All That Is Solid Melts Into Air (Words and Music by Peter Watts © 2022)
The world we are wedded to is tattered and torn
Courting the scorn
whip in your hand
Come set you down by me, just at my command
My horses is geared up, my whip in my hand
So farewell, pretty Nancy, I’ve no time to stand
Jesus
Help your people fight to follow
So wherever you go we'll be right by your side
Go, then, earthly fame and treasure
Come, disaster, scorn, and pain
of that child
Which turn naught for them naught for the promised light
Naught for the atrocities committed by mine own hands
Yet here we stand I before you
the dew
(Of morning, in ye twilightland of old)
Abiding teardrops borne by thorns,
thine fragments I twine true
(In mourning, stream adorned in rage untold)
Scorn
Callously discarded
Into the river of Acheron
Submerged beyond ascension
Breaking through the surface tension
Eyes wide open to the bottom
hand, it trembled with eagerness
Thrilled by the homicide
Harnessed from maniacal trait
Death by inhumane slaughter
Murdering by numbers for laughter
sons
Behold the face of war
To scorn it at once
Pay for tortured lives
See the children died by gas
Hand towards the sun
Send your silent S.O.S.
Now
of itself
I don't need my hand held it's already swelled
I don't need my heart helped it healed by itself
I don't need my heart helped it healed by itself
I
Caused by forces born from danger
Cleaning hands where virtues live on ice
In mother's scorn
Blood was born
A war unknown to us all
See the rays
button window who I am...
I existed in a womb, just like an abyss
Came straight from spirit land, my hands balled in a fist
Punching on my moms
window who I am
I existed in a womb, just like an abyss
Came straight from spirit land
My hands balled in a fist
Punching my mom's stomach
Kicking on her
the planes, the creature is unmoved
By the commotion and the noise, and the blinding fork
Of lightening which strikes only a few yards from where
Lays it
enemy, beautiful
I send my scorn and ridicule
You're not innocent
No, not innocent
No one's innocent
My nation's grand
Your name's not on any signs
Forced into betrayal of God and country
By a despot clad in vengeance
A self-made enemy
A noble man
Beheaded at dawn
By a King's swift justice
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