She’s a little Dresden doll from the attic upstairs
Dressed in grandma’s clothes and brushes her bottle blonde hair
And she tells me that the men in green tore apart her dollhouse
They burnt the last known entries written to this Puppenhaus
Cases of littles ones lost to these broken hands
As they make their woeful journey to the Promised Land
But anywhere must be bеtter than here
Nothing morе must shed those sweetest tears
Promise me that you’ll still love me, when the bombs come raining down
Promise me that you’ll stay pragmatic, even when the soldiers patrol the town
I told you a thousand times that it’ll be okay
But you know I never really mean exactly what I say
Forever little kids inside the tombs
Of scared and nervous grown up girls and boys
With eyes sewn shut, we’re fu*ked out of luck
On the graves of our parents, we have moss for breakfast
You’re so clueless, sprouting from the cracks of cement
I can see your little head begin to break through
And you call yourself disgusting, wishing you were a Bloodroot
But I think that even weeds can be beautiful too
Promise me that you’ll still love me, when the bombs come raining down
(So let me die in your thin white arms tonight)
Promise me that you’ll stay pragmatic, even when the soldiers patrol the town
(Let me part from this place)
I told you a thousand times that it’ll be okay
(And everything I want to leave behind)
But you know I never really mean exactly what I say
(I told you a thousand times that I love you so, but God wants my soul to come back home)