The Weeping Bogeyman - текст песни
The Weeping Bogeyman
"Make it" comes alive
In my private glass tent
A portable mortuary
Going...
Going...
But not yet gone
'Cus when it does, it does and then...
The ancient practice
Of mourning the phantom
Do you really think he
Would choose to inhabit the pore
Where his container was planted?
...can't imagine that
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