The Procession
by The Dear Hunter
From the album: Act II: The Meaning of, & All Things Regarding Ms. Leading
Duration: 4:59
Lyrics for The Procession
The blood, how it paints such a scene Foul routine pedigree Mouth agape, stuttered hands attempt to flail and finally agree Her hearts ceases it's rhythm, somewhere, trumpets decay In the front by the well, wishing wishes that deny the stale smell in the hay There, no one cry Place these over her eyes We are broke and alone We are broken alone She's inanimate, bloodless elegance Fatal fascination breeds a bloom of misery, yeah Helpless hiding tongues, bathed in revulsion Here lies unfinished beauty, wilting premature You can't be too sure No, you can't be too sure Reserved, always playing the part of a Boy left alone He proceeds to the road beyond the home he'd learn to call his own She's inanimate, bloodless elegance Fatal fascination breeds a bloom of misery, yeah Helpless hiding tongues, bathed in revulsion Here lies unfinished beauty, wilting premature You can't be too sure No, you can't be too sure One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, one life for another One life for another, life for another She's inanimate, bloodless elegance Fatal fascination breeds a bloom of misery, yeah Helpless hiding tongues, bathed in revulsion Here lies unfinished beauty, wilting premature You can't be too sure You can't be too sure