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Call From the Grave
Todd Rundgren
Popularity ยท Moderate
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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The rain washes away and purifies
Let it wash down the flesh we catered for
And we who saw so much, and wanted more
The crows will come and peck away our eyes
Perhaps ambition used too sharp a goad
It drove us to these heights from which we swing
Hacked at by greedy starlings on the wing
Like horses' droppings on a country road
O brothers, learn from us how it begins
And pray to God that he forgive my sins
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The girls who flaunt their breasts as bait there
To catch some sucker who will love them
Thะต youths who slyly stand and wait there
To grab their sinful ะตarnings off them
The crooks, the tarts, the tarts' protectors
The models and the mannequins
The psychopaths, the unfrocked rectors
I pray that they forgive my sins
Someone must take an iron crowbar
And stave their ugly faces in
I only ask to know it's over
Praying that they forgive my sins
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