Ballad Of An Onion Sprout Lyrics - Singles - The Burning Of Rome

O lovely dont 

Lovely dont think your so cleaver 

Wrapped up in hopeless endeavors 

Ready to pout 

Onion your ready to sprout 

The money dont 

It dont make anything better 

Shrinks your soul just like wet leather 

Stuck to a cow 

And when your luck comes about 

You can roll 

The annuls 

Of all time 

From a scroll 

To a bold 

Ball of twine 

Throw it up 

To the sun 

Watch it ignite 

O Hopi gal 

Dont rely on that dream catcher 

To filter out with its feathers 

All of your doubt 

When that white man comes about 

Your heart will grow 

Larger than the Eiffel tower 

Pumping blood of Paris flowers 

Into the town 

Of those non-natives you found 

To be cold 

With their old 

State of mind 

You must buy 

Or be sold 

To their lie 

Grab your gun 

Little girl 

And make things right 

Consummate yourself and shake the reigns 

Down the bridal path to a safe place 

I will meet you there dying in grace 

Soak up all the tears off of your face 

And watch you disappear without a trace