I Am The Bearer, I Stand In Need Lyrics - Singles - Eleventh He Reaches London

I fucking loved you, but never said a word to make it known 

I fucking loathed you, but never said the words as hard to harm 

I'm so tired of sourcing men to quote 

My God doesn't quiver, and nor should he do 

From threats below the Tropic Of Cancer 

And nor should he do 

I was born a fucking idiot, but no one told me til I die o' it 

My God doesn't quiver from threats below the Tropic Of Cancer 

Well I was born who I was, no doctored manuscript could say that I'm not 

But I'll take my own word for it and wear the sign, "Here be a cunt" 

I sat beneath portraits and drew symbols of brotherhoods on my arm 

I used only pencil, because nothing in my life can ever last 

I watched my mother garden, and thought of all the times I made her cry 

I watched my sister watch me, we both agreed kids like us never last 

I crawl under the stairs, I crawl under the fern 

Decaying leaves, a garden tool 

She drags her fingers across the earth 

I can hear my mother weep 

In other soil in another world 

She's getting drunk and starting fights 

With famous pricks who run the world 

I can hear my sister weep 

In another house in another room 

These fingers move faster 

These lungs grow louder 

I can hear my body weep 

"Spare the drama, now go to sleep" 

My father looks upon his house 

and into ferns and tells his son 

"You've made your women weep 

So leave the house or leave your life" 

I dream, I dream of England 

Oh foreign fern, the world in bloom 

I dream, I dream of England 

Oh rotting wood, my boat to sail 

I never thought of what I did 

I fucking love what's wrong with me 

No prayer or wine could twist my arm 

To say I was wrong about my life 

I'd never harm a living soul 

If I was told they didn't deserve it 

Decaying leaves to hide my corpse 

I don't want his hands to fucking touch me 

I hid in the local fern, but no one ever knew 

I, made my God quiver, through social dissonance and planned dementia 

I, made myself quiver, through social dissonance and planned dementia 

I, made myself quiver, through social dissonance and forced dementia 

I dream, I dream of England 

Oh foreign fern, the world in bloom 

I dream, I dream of England 

Oh rotting wood, my boat to sail 

I never thought of what I did 

I fucking love what's wrong with me 

No prayer or wine could twist my arm 

To say I was wrong about my life 

I'd never harm a living soul 

If I was told they didn't deserve it 

Decaying leaves to hide my corpse 

I don't want his hands to fucking touch me 

I hid in the local fern, but no one ever knew 

I, made my God quiver, through social dissonance and planned dementia 

I, made myself quiver, through social dissonance and planned dementia 

I, made myself quiver, through social dissonance and forced