Diary Of P. Stuart

A sound is suppressed
Somewhere, somehow
For some reason
Not reasonable at all

The walls, they have ears
As many have found
As soon as they got lost
We sing as we walk

Some birds congregate
Around crumbs of bread
A condor approaches
The dove flies elsewhere

But not far from there
The eagles they spread
Their wings and their freedom
South of their land

The nightmare comes more often
It ends in a basement again
On a on
I hold the key on my throat
But I ain't gonna give in
That I know for sure
On and on
As I figured
On and on and on

I'll cross these fields
Barefoot, on my own
And pass through defenses
Made of ghosts
Between the tombstones, then
We shall score
Score

And then at night
Amongst the crowd
We'll sing the forbidden anthems loud
And by the dawn we will be too far
Far

I'll cross these fields
Barefoot, on my own
And pass through defenses
Made of ghosts
Between the tombstones, then
We shall score
Score

And then at night
Amongst the crowd
We'll sing the forbidden anthems loud
And by the dawn we won't need to run
Run