The Path Of Least Persistence (figure Ii) Lyrics - Shannon Wright

There goes your mother and her plague 

What a terrible display 

Of a charcoaled tongue 

That wouldn't lend a hand 

Though this dead was a thoughtless act 

With alcohol intact 

Quietly she seeks the day to pass 

With those stitches that you clean 

You hold your flag of your doleful plea 

Now there's nothing left to recall 

A fruitless title bestowed 

Amongst someone you could never know 

In this plight of this dismay 

This thickness of your plague 

She's a realm that's lost her way