["infinitely picturesque"]
Night fell upon the pilgrims
While sailing on the sea of grass
Through the infinite horizon
The wooden ship sails by the wind to the pass
They'll journey on awaiting doom
Talling their stories in the gloom
Disrupted by his baby's crirs
...panting
The old jew carries on
...telling
This lyric was posted anonymously. Not yet confirmed by Book of Metal.
