Eleventh He Reaches London - I Am The Bearer, I Stand In Need lyrics

I f**ing loved you, but never said a word to make it known I f**ing loathed you, but never said the words as hard to harm I'm so tired of sourcing men to quote My God doesn't quiver, and nor should he do From threats below the Tropic Of Cancer And nor should he do I was born a f**ing idiot, but no one told me til I die o' it My God doesn't quiver from threats below the Tropic Of Cancer Well I was born who I was, no doctored man*script could say that I'm not But I'll take my own word for it and wear the sign, "Here be a c*nt" I sat beneath portraits and drew symbols of brotherhoods on my arm I used only pencil, because nothing in my life can ever last I watched my mother garden, and thought of all the times I made her cry I watched my sister watch me, we both agreed kids like us never last I crawl under the stairs, I crawl under the fern Decaying leaves, a garden tool She drags her fingers across the earth I can hear my mother weep In other soil in another world She's getting drunk and starting fights With famous pricks who run the world I can hear my sister weep In another house in another room These fingers move faster These lungs grow louder I can hear my body weep "Spare the drama, now go to sleep" My father looks upon his house and into ferns and tells his son "You've made your women weep So leave the house or leave your life" I dream, I dream of England Oh foreign fern, the world in bloom I dream, I dream of England Oh rotting wood, my boat to sail I never thought of what I did I f**ing love what's wrong with me No prayer or wine could twist my arm To say I was wrong about my life I'd never harm a living soul If I was told they didn't deserve it Decaying leaves to hide my corpse I don't want his hands to f**ing touch me I hid in the local fern, but no one ever knew I, made my God quiver, through social dissonance and planned dementia I, made myself quiver, through social dissonance and planned dementia I, made myself quiver, through social dissonance and forced dementia I dream, I dream of England Oh foreign fern, the world in bloom I dream, I dream of England Oh rotting wood, my boat to sail I never thought of what I did I f**ing love what's wrong with me No prayer or wine could twist my arm To say I was wrong about my life I'd never harm a living soul If I was told they didn't deserve it Decaying leaves to hide my corpse I don't want his hands to f**ing touch me I hid in the local fern, but no one ever knew I, made my God quiver, through social dissonance and planned dementia I, made myself quiver, through social dissonance and planned dementia I, made myself quiver, through social dissonance and forced