Jon-Arne Vilbo - Ma**ive Illusion lyrics

St. John got gunned down with a cold .38 Why don't we pin him to the sky The rarest of the specimens are neatly locked away It's all in my collection It's all in my collection You know that bird has flown Can you forgive? A bird you'll never own And your love is a graveyard where the gra**es grow low And the people that lie here knew just what you know Now your shovel's a shot gla** and you drink your own toast You're living your life as a ghost, a ghost, a ghost See your love is a playground where the gra**es grow low All the people that play here reap just what they sow And if your shovel is a shot gla** and you drink your own toast You're living your life as a ghost, a ghost, a ghost When your will is gone and dreams will erase When you're hanging on by your fingernails When your will is gone and dreams will erase While you're hanging on by your fingernails Bring out your finest wines your holy shrines and let them go Freed from the chains of what has remained of a life that you don't want to know The ba** and the drums will hammer it home with their marching band of the proud Celebrate ages, all life stages, seas and the winds and the clouds The message's been written from your prison, see what tomorrow will be See what tomorrow will be See what tomorrow will be Got every reason to believe that all must decide to break free Was it a tantrum when you said that all the laughs were on me Then I'll know my bet will win when the saints go marching in Then I'll know my bet will win when the saints go marching in Go marching in