Nun but the Lost - Foxtails Brigade

Nun but the lost shall find their way

To neither forest neither valley neither darkness nor day

Shall the wretched be confined when the swinging

Daggers prophesize

Still they grind, grind, grind, grind

Through the rust and the rubble and the rubbish and the rind

And in the chime, chime, chime, chime chime

Of the flesh falling from the face of filth and flies

They cry a little louder, a little longer

With twisted timbre, like sleepy songbirds

«No don’t take us, don’t forsake us

We’ll’ve paid our debts when we’re up in ‘heaven'

Place inside your pockets the pulp of pride

All candy-coated, crystal-covered, cracked and caramelized

For when the toll the bell must take

One does make and eat his cake then too

See sight through the sockets of sunken eyes

In retrospective view selective few are colorblind

But in the hour of despair when all is seemingly unfair

They cry

Still they grind, grind, grind, grind

Through the trust and the trouble and the toil of

The times and in their prime, prime, prime, prime, prime

It is pitiful the people who prevail and preside

But cry a little louder, a little longer

With twisted timber, like sleepy songbirds

No don' t stop there, don’t resign

Just cry a little louder, a little longer…

None but the lost shall find their way

And in the dust and the drilling and the digging for the day

There is an edge that’s silver-lined

And it casts beams of light that shine and shine