Needs a few tweaks
Sitting in A Hole
Sitting on my own in a hole
I can sense the age of the cold
Sitting on my own in a hole
Pondering on which head is next to roll
I'll ring you
and sing you, my last goodbye
Sitting on my own in a hole
lying back and staring at the sky
Puzzled by the story as it unfolds
and the universal tears that we'll all cry
And still I hear the marching of the clowns
Spreading like a virus across the town
Years after digging a hole
And siting in silence
I no longer want the staring role
In my own asylum
Sitting on my own in a hole
laughing at the things that we got wrong
and of all the things that we were ever told
we'll laugh untill the end of the Sun
And still I hear the marching of the clowns
Spreading like a virus across the town
The bleating of the dumb sheep rapes our ears
attacking everything that we held dear
