The Soviet

Lyrics for The Soviet

God is love and love is real But the dead are dancing with the dead And whatever's charming disappears While all things lovely only hurt my head As I gather stones from fields Like pearls of water on my fingers' ends And I carefully wrap them up in boxes Safe from windows, from things that break As the night-time shined like day it saw my sorry face And hair a mess but it liked me best that way Besides, how else could I confess? When I looked down, like if to pray Well, I was looking down her dress Good God! Please catch for us the foxes In the vineyard, the little foxes (Like an apple tree among the trees of the woods, so is my love among men) (He has brought me to a banquet hall, and his banner over me is love) (Let me see your form, hear your voice) (Catch for us the foxes that ruin our vineyards, the vineyards that are in bloom) (Catch for us even the little foxes) (So turn your ears, you musicians, to silence) (Because they only come out when it's quiet) (Their tails brushing over your eyelids) (Wake up, sleepers, and rise from the dead) (Or the fur that they shed that's gonna lay on your bed) (In a delicate orange-ish cinnamon red) (I have my loves, I have my doubts) So turn your ears, you musicians, to silence Because they only come out when it's quiet Their tails brushing over your eyelids Oh wake up, sleepers, and rise from the dead! Or the fur that they shed that's gonna lay on your bed In a delicate orange-ish cinnamon red Ah, but I don't need this! I don't need this My doubts, my loves! I don't need this