The Burning of Rome - Ballad Of An Onion Sprout lyrics

O lovely dont Lovely dont think your so cleaver Wrapped up in hopeless endeavors Ready to pout Onion your ready to sprout The money dont It dont make anything better Shrinks your soul just like wet leather Stuck to a cow And when your luck comes about You can roll The annuls Of all time From a scroll To a bold Ball of twine Throw it up To the sun Watch it ignite O Hopi gal Dont rely on that dream catcher To filter out with its feathers All of your doubt When that white man comes about Your heart will grow Larger than the Eiffel tower Pumping blood of Paris flowers Into the town Of those non-natives you found To be cold With their old State of mind You must buy Or be sold To their lie Grab your gun Little girl And make things right Consummate yourself and shake the reigns Down the bridal path to a safe place I will meet you there dying in grace Soak up all the tears off of your face And watch you disappear without a trace